


avilion

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arthur!Harry, BAMF Eggsy Unwin, BAMF Roxy Morton, Civilian Eggsy Unwin, Cute, Fluff, Getting Together, Guinevere!Eggsy, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, dad!eggsy, hopefully, meet cute, teacher!roxy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: See, Eggsy doesn't know what to do with this. He'd always known he'd been dealt a bad hand, but he wasn't sure justhowbad a hand it was until now. He's got enough on his plate as it is, he never asked to be put on some sort of international hit list, and he absolutely did NOT ask to be protected (read: stalked) by one of the hottest men he's ever seen.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 71





	1. babylon

**Author's Note:**

> to clarify some things: daisy is eggsys kid. also fucked about with the ages a bit (eggsys 32, daisys 10, harrys 47, so just assume every other character fits into this sort of age spectrum)... 
> 
> also, any info for real life stuff (like history, cars, etc), please take with a pinch of salt. ive tried to be as accurate as i can but my brain cells are severely lacking. artistic license! a lot of it does need a bit of twisting around just to make it squish into my story here so. please forgive any historic or realistic inaccuracies lol.

_ (A city devoted to the theory and belief that consciousness is a materialistic agency. She is the gate of the Gods. The agents of the threat of force, and the corrupt authoritarianism of the system. She is a cipher for the tyrannical ways of evil, for sensuality. She sits on the seven mountains as the corrupter of nations and persecutor of saints. She is all this, and yet she will fall.) _

* * *

  
  


“Daisy!”

God, Eggsy is going to kill her. He’ll be charged for murdering his only daughter and go to prison forever, he is so going to kill her. He didn’t wake up today with the intention of chasing her around Tesco, he hasn’t  _ ever  _ wanted to. 

And yet.

“Daisy, for fucks sake!”

He hears her incessant giggle from somewhere down the bread aisle. He’s never having children again. Some eighty year old with paisley trousers about two sizes too small coughs at him. Eggsy sends her a desperate smile, flying around the corner of the bread aisle to see Daisy standing at the opposite end, grinning madly. 

“Daisy! Come back here!”

“Dad, no!” Daisy shouts back. He’ll never be allowed back through the doors of a Tesco, ever again. “Come and catch me!”

Eggsy grimaces, and she starts to run again, so he grabs a loaf of brown bread from the shelves and slides it across the linoleum. By some stroke of luck, it manages to get caught between Daisy’s feet and she trips over longer enough for Eggsy to catch up to her. 

The downside, however, is that she trips head first into probably the hottest bloke Eggsy’s ever seen (except for Chris Hemsworth). 

Buggering fuck. He’s wearing scuffed trackies with a gajillion loose threads and muddy trainers he got from the charity shops, a Puffa jacket that's almost nearly too small for him and holding the squashed loaf of bread he just used to trip his own actual daughter up. And Daisy’s grinning up at this guy, who’s wearing a three piece in Tesco, who’s tall - taller than Eggsy by about five inches, Christ - and the kind of absolutely perfect that you only get from movies. 

“Jesus Christ, Daisy, what are you doing?” He asks, panting only slightly (he’s on the far side of thirty two, for crying out loud, he’s entitled to it). “God. Say sorry to this nice man, and we’ll go. We’ll never be allowed back in here.”

Daisy harrumphs in her own special way. Fucking ten year olds. The worst. “Well, you didn’t have to throw bread at me.”

“I didn’t throw it,” Eggsy says. “I slid it at you. Because you were being a menace. Come on. Say sorry.”

“Fine,” Daisy says, turning her nose directly upright at him. “Sorry, mister. I didn’t mean to bump into you, my dad’s just an awful shot.”

“Fuckin’ answer for everything, don’t you?” Eggsy grumbles. He thanks every deity he knows that she’s still small enough that he can swing her into his arms and bodily haul her out of the shop, and he does just that, lugging her over his shoulder and grimacing at the man. 

“Sorry about her. She didn’t hurt you, did she?” he asks, worried that maybe a ‘you break it, you buy it’ type thing may apply to the other man’s suit. 

“No,” says the man, brushing invisible dust from the lapels of his jacket. “You shouldn’t swear in front of young ears, you know.”

Eggsy makes a face. “Yeah, alright, mate. Sorry, again.”

* * *

After that, he starts running into older blokes with expensive suits everywhere. Which, usually, wouldn’t be an issue for Eggsy. Living on the outskirts of the council estate, finally able to afford better housing for his Daisy, he doesn’t see a lot of suits, or polished shoes, or brand new Aston Martins, for Christ’s sake. It’s like someone is deliberating stalking him with perfectly tailored blazers and the shiny black cars he sees in Bond films, but never on the street next to him. 

It’s fucking ridiculous, is what it is. To the point that Daisy’s picking up on it, on his unease around business-men and fancy cars (which Eggsy would usually be borderline obsessed with). 

She starts asking what’s going on, what happened with the man in Tesco, whether they’re being spied on by aliens, which is the sort of ten-year-old bullshit Eggsy has had to get used to. He explains to her that they’re not living in the  _ Men in Black  _ universe (touch wood, because realistically, Eggsy thinks he’d just about have a heart attack if they were), that they’re probably not being spied on, let alone by aliens, and the man in Tesco was a wanker and to just forget about it. Please. 

And then, obviously, that’s when he sees him again. In Asda, this time, because Eggsy hardly dares go back to Tesco now. And he has to wonder what, exactly, a rich prick like the man is doing in low-end supermarkets near the Estates. He seems more the sort of twat to own three apartments and a townhouse in Kensington, the turn his nose up at anything that isn’t Waitrose kind of guy, the look at anyone earning less than six figures like the scum of the Earth type. 

Sure, maybe Eggsy’s making some unfair assumptions. It’s only to be expected. There has never, not in his life, ever been a real life Bentley parked outside his house. He’s never even seen one, except for once, on the bus, when he was emerging from a hangover when he was seventeen.

So that’s how it is. He manages to ignore the bloke in Asda, because Daisy’s still at school and she’ll be going home with Roxy today for ice-cream or pancakes or some other diabetes-inducing concoction. He gets home before the man can even catch sight of him, which is when he sees the Bentley and thinks, appropriately,  _ oh fuck.  _

And then he wonders why a Bentley is parked outside his house (his council house, lest he forget). It can hardly mean anything good, and he begins to take Daisy’s alien spy theory a bit more seriously. She may be young, but she’s not stupid. 

Eggsy goes inside. He barely finished his shopping, and he didn’t get any more teabags, so he’ll have to go back out later. He starts boiling the kettle anyway, wondering if it’s gross to fish the teabag out of an old cup and reuse it. 

He decides it’s gross, when he sees that it’s been too long since he washed up and all the used cups have mold growing in them. Which is arguably even grosser - but sue him, he’s a single dad with a full time job, and tween daughter. 

He starts filling the sink with water. He might as well sort the cups out, which is precisely when someone knocks at the door. 

Eggsy assumes it’s the owner of the Bentley, but it could also be the police. Maybe Ryan’s taken too much coke and OD'd - despite the fact that he’s been clean for three years. Maybe they’ve finally realised Eggsy used to steal shit and he’s now got to pay his dues. Maybe its Child Protective Services, come to take Daisy away because he’ll never be able to raise her properly anyway; he’s thirty two years old, single, and barely able to take care of himself. 

It’s probably the owner of the Bentley. 

…And it is, when he opens the door. The guy from Tesco and Asda, twisting keys between his fingers and looking completely out of place, and a bit nervous. “Hello,” he says, pleasantly despite his demeanour. “We met at Tesco the other week.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says. His hands are still damp. For fuck’s sake, he’s having a conversation on his doorstep with the richest and the hottest man he’s ever met, and all his cups in the kitchen are releasing possibly toxic mold spores as they speak. “I know. Have you been stalking me?”

“What-?”  
“Only ‘cos your type of car isn’t as common ‘round here,” he continues. “It’s a bit suspicious and a lot creepy.”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking-“

“Spying, then,” Eggsy says. Dammit, Daisy’s theory about alien spying might be closer to the truth than he’s comfortable with. “I don’t even know your name, mate.”

“Harry Hart,” Harry, supposedly, says. “That’s my name. Yours?”

“Don’t you know it yet? Thought you’d have my birth certificate and everything by now.”

“Why would I want them?” Harry asks. “May I come in?”

“No,” Eggsy says. “You’re a stranger, and you’re weird.”

If Harry’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks almost proud. “Right. Of course.”

“So, were you spying on me?”

“Not me personally,” Harry says, slowly. 

“Like that makes it any better.”

“Perhaps not. But you should know that anything we’ve ever done has been for your own protection,” Harry says, like that’s not cryptic as all fuck, and Eggsy’s just supposed to make sense of it all. 

“Oh, yeah? Who says?”

Harry smiles at him. It’s not a proper smile, but it’s not malicious. Just sort of like he knows more than Eggsy; which is reasonable, given he probably does. “It was your father’s dying wish.”

“My dad’s been dead for twenty eight years now. Are you telling me you’ve been stalking me since then?” Eggsy says. “God. That’s so fucked up.” And then he slams the door, because Jesus Christ, he’s not dealing with this now. Today. Ever. He’s locking it in the back of his wardrobe, only to take it out once every five years, sour with regret like a secret boyfriend or bastardised sibling. 

* * *

It’s eight in the morning on Sunday and Eggsy’s just got out of the shower when the doorbell rings. He’s only wearing a towel, and Daisy’s thoroughly enamoured by the recordings of  _ Operation Ouch!  _ on the TV (Eggsy’s least favourite show, ever, because he’s always been a bit squeamish and she watches it over a bowl of soggy cornflakes), so he dashes down the stairs, because the postie’s seen him in worse attire than a damp towel. 

Except it’s not the postie. 

It’s Harry. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

One of the patients on the TV starts to cry. They’re probably getting a broken arm reset, Eggsy thinks, using his extensive knowledge of the show. He wishes he was getting a broken arm reset. It’d probably be less painful. 

“Language,” Harry says, mildly, like it isn’t eight in the morning and Eggsy’s practically naked on his doorstep. 

“You can fuck off,” Eggsy says, attempting to slam the door again. Apparently, he’s predictable now, and Harry’s foot stops it from closing fully. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Harry says, like he still hasn’t noticed the fact that Eggsy’s about to get arrested for public indecency and the eight year old on the TV is sobbing profusely. Eggsy would rather break both his arms and a leg than have Harry here right now. 

“Why not?”

“I’m under orders,” Harry says. “Really, this would be better inside. Perhaps with a cup of tea. Away from prying eyes.”

“Who the fuck’s gonna be prying around here?” Eggsy says. “As far as I know, the only people prying are you and your lot.”

“Yes, well,” Harry says. And he walks past Eggsy (in his damp towel) into his house (his council house that hasn’t been hoovered properly in about two months) and into the living room, where his smart-arse ten year old sits (eating soggy cornflakes in front of the most gruesome TV show Eggsy’s ever seen). 

Harry, thankfully, seems to agree. “Good Christ,” he says, as Doctor Chris and Xand start to sneeze paint at a canvas. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Eggsy says. He pulls on a hoodie that’s been oh-so-helpfully not put away from the last time he did laundry.

Daisy says, “ _ Operation Ouch!”  _ and Harry sits down next to her, looking faintly nauseous. 

“I’ll be right back,” Eggsy says, as he goes to find jeans, or joggers, or a pair of Roxy’s yoga pants - anything but the towel - but it falls on deaf ears. 

Just what he wanted. A posh twat watching gross shows with his daughter on a Sunday morning. When the time for writing to Santa came, that’s exactly what he wished for. Whenever he blew out the birthday candles, too. All of it. 

He needs vodka. And whiskey, and copious amounts of ice-cream. And probably a hug, preferably now. Christ. 

He calls Roxy as soon as he gets to his room, pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder and looking frantically for an appropriate pair of trousers. She answers sounding half asleep and hungover. 

“What.”

“I’m being stalked,” Eggsy says. He pulls out a pair of glittery pink hot pants from the back of his drawer with a grimace. There’s simply no accounting for some taste. 

“I’m extremely jealous,” Roxy says. “I’m also hanging up now.”

“No, wait,” Eggsy says. He glares at the hot pants like they just pissed on his doorstep. 

“I’m on a very tight schedule,” Roxy says. 

“You’re hungover,” Eggsy says, “and you’ve got the week off. You have no schedule to speak of. I, on the other hand, am currently experiencing a very traumatic event and need emotional and moral support. Please. He’s inside my house.”

“Do you need me to call the police?” Roxy asks, sounding appropriately flummoxed. Eggsy knows her well enough to know that she’s just reeling off from a list of responses she has in her head. 

“You’re useless,” Eggsy informs her. He discovers a pair of black track pants with triumph and hangs up. Roxy texts him in the time it takes to pull the pants on, confirming Eggsy’s knowledge that, whilst hungover and sleepy, she can still make jokes about his impending doom. 

_ If you don’t make contact in T-90 minutes I’ll make sure to send a search party out. X  _

He texts back:  _ U fill me with so much confidence. _

And heads back downstairs, to see what havoc Daisy and Harry have managed to wreck upon his living room. 

...Which turns out to be not much at all. Daisy is still watching  _ Operation Ouch!  _ (which thankfully, seems to be nearing the end, and Eggsy isn’t the only one who looks grateful), she’s finished her cereal, and given Harry a chipped Cinderella mug of orange juice. 

It’s not quite tea, but Eggsy isn’t feeling charitable. He sits next to Daisy, mostly for comfort and a little bit for her protection. She doesn’t even look at him, like she’s completely unaware of the danger Harry presents (Eggsy makes a mental note to go over the ‘Stranger-danger’ warnings again), and picks up the remote to switch the channel over. 

“So,” Eggsy says. He notices that his trackies are too short by about five inches and wonders where the hell all his appropriate pants have gone. 

“So,” Harry echoes. He places the Cinderella mug on the side table and folds his hands in his lap. “You have a lovely home,” he says, pointedly ignoring the coffee stain on the wall near the door, the ginger cat fur adorning the sofa cushions (they don’t even own a cat. Eggsy tried fish, gerbils, and hamsters, and each one died more gruesomely than the one before, which tends to put one off), and the spiders currently setting up a fortress in the corner of the ceiling, because he and Daisy are both too afraid to get within three feet. 

“Who actually are you?” Eggsy asks. He feels a bit like a clueless side character in a superhero flick. “What are you doing here? Why are you following me?”

Daisy glances between the two of them. She switches the telly off. “I’m going upstairs,” she says, and Eggsy can’t blame her. 

“My name is Harry Hart,” Harry says. “I work for a secret intelligence agency called Kingsman. A spy, if you will.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Really,” Harry says. “I do. Your father was an agent too, it must be about thirty years ago now.”

The mention of his dad sobers Eggsy. “And you’re not taking the piss?”

“I’m not.”

“He said he was going to the Marines,” Eggsy says. “That’s what mum said. Then he died. If you’re lying, I’ll thump you so hard you’ll remember the day you were born.”

Harry, for some unknown reason, smiles. “I’ll hold you to that, Eggsy. And I’d never lie: not to you, and not about this.”

“But you could stalk me for my whole life?” Eggsy feels like he’s being pulled in thirteen different directions, each more confusing than the last. Each new piece of information Harry gives throws him, veering off course again and again. “You won’t lie but you can spy on me? Your morals are fucked up, mate.”

Harry has the grace to look sheepish. “Yes, well. That tends to happen in this line of work.”

“And that line of work is what? Secret agencies?”

“Like I said,” Harry says. “A private intelligence force, dedicated to protecting and preserving the lives of the citizens of our country, and beyond.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eggsy says. 

“I want to apologise,” Harry says, next. “We never intended to make you uncomfortable or afraid. I really did mean it when I said that everything we’ve done has been to protect you.”

“What do I need protecting for, though?” Eggsy asks. “I’m just a normal guy.”

Harry hums. He sips from the mug again. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. You’re incredibly well known across the London underworld, and incredibly valuable to anyone who could get their hands on you.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Eggsy’s head is spinning. 

“It means,” Harry pauses. He takes a breath and Eggsy watches the swell of his chest. “It means you’re in danger. People, bad people, believe you have information about Kingsmen, given your father worked for us. And given Kingsmen is the force that it is, any information on us is valuable.”

“But I don’t know shit,” Eggsy says. “I don’t know anything.”

“I know that. Kingsmen know that. But these people do not,” Harry says. “They tend to have one track minds, and if it turned out that you didn’t know anything, they would be willing to hurt you just for the hell of it anyway. Thus: our protection. Your father was ahead of his time, and entrusted you and your mother’s safety to us on the occasion of his death. My only regret is that it happened sooner than I would have liked.”

“You’re saying people would gladly kidnap me just in case I know something?” Eggsy says. 

“Yes.”

“Holy shit,” Eggsy breathes. “Would you have kept this from me forever if you could have?”

Harry deliberates for a minute before answering. “...Yes. If we could have ensured your safety, and your family’s safety, we would never have brought it to your attention.”

“But now you can’t ensure my safety?”

“I’m afraid not,” Harry says. “The situation has progressed. Things have become exponentially more dangerous, and it was decided it would be best for all of us if we could guard you without secrecy, and for you to be aware and alert.”

Eggsy asks, “what situation?”

“Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“Guess I should have expected that,” Eggsy says. “Okay, fine. So what do you want me to say now?”

“I don’t know, Eggsy. I’d like your spoken permission for Kingsman to continue with our protection detail, if you want to give it.”

“And what if I say no?”

“We’ll continue anyway. A yes would just look better on the official paperwork.”

Eggsy scoffs. “That’s what I thought. Alright, then. Here’s my verbal consent.”

The smile Harry rewards him with is almost worth it. “Thank you. And, here,” he holds out a small medallion. “Take this. Your mother would have received a similar one when your father died. It entitles you to a favour. Simply call the number on the back and tell the operator: ‘Oxfords, not Brogues.’”

Eggsy takes it, turning the medal over in his hands. It’s remarkably well crafted, cold at first but slowly warming up with his body heat. “A favour?”

“Yes. Anything you want,” Harry says. “Anything you need. You call, and we’ll help you.”

“Right.” Eggsy squeezes the medallion in a fist before slipping it in his pocket for further inspection later. “Is there anything else I need to know right now?”

Harry makes a face like he’s thinking, before patting around the flaps of his jacket. “One more thing. I’ve got it here somewhere.”

“What is it?” Eggsy asks, apprehensive and a teensy bit suspicious. He may not have known Harry for long but it’s enough to set him on edge now. 

Harry produces an item from inside his jacket triumphantly. “Aha! Here we are, then. This was created especially for you, Eggsy. Call it an extra security measure.”

A gun. 

Harry’s trying to give him a gun. 

Eggsy takes it gingerly, cold hard metal stiff against his tentative fingers. It’s black, smooth, the sort of gun they put in the movies. “Seriously?”  
“Seriously,” Harry says. “Now, it won’t shoot _actual_ bullets. Instead, it fires a tranquiliser dart that’ll at least buy you some time if things go horrendously wrong.”

It shocks Eggsy how serious everything is now. Before he ran into Harry at Tesco, he was living his life like normal, all ‘ignorance is bliss’ and happy go lucky. Now, he’s holding a gun in his living room, sitting across from a secret agent, while his life hangs in the balance. 

“But I don’t know how to shoot,” Eggsy says, because he doesn’t. His finger fits around the trigger automatically, though. 

“It’s a very clever gun,” Harry says. “Our tech team built it primarily for civilians, although this version has been adapted.”

“Adapted for what?”

“For you,” Harry tells him. He goes back to digging through his pockets. “I’ll show you how to load it, and how to shoot. It’s really quite easy when you know how.”

“Okay,” Eggsy says. He puts it down on the coffee table. 

“I assume you’re not busy tomorrow?” Harry asks. Eggsy takes a few seconds to reply, calculating through his mental schedule. 

He has an evening shift at work so Roxy’ll be looking after Daisy and feeding her until he can pick her up. Maybe he can talk Roxy into letting them stay at her flat, so he can stay up too late and drink too many beers. Lord knows he needs it after this week. 

“No. Well, I have a shift at two but I’m free all morning,” he says. 

“I’ll pick you up at half eight-“ Harry starts to say. 

“Can’t do half past,” Eggsy says. “Sorry. I’ve got to drop Daisy at school. But I can do nine. Why?”

Harry amends, “I’ll pick you up at nine, then. We’ll go to Kingsmen headquarters so you can meet everyone and I’ll show you how to work the gun.”

Eggsy is definitely going to need a beer by the time tomorrow comes around, that’s for sure. 

* * *

Now that Eggsy Knows, he’s increasingly aware of the fact that there’s probably someone watching his every move. It makes him self conscious; rethinking his hair, whether the jeans he put on are actually clean, wondering if he looks less like a dad and more like a homeless tramp. 

Daisy seems unaffected. She sits in the front seat of his car (a second hand, bright red KIA that he’s still paying off), twiddling with the volume knob and twisting her hair around a finger. She’s reached the age where the only adult she wants to be seen with is Roxy, because she’s ‘cooler than Eggsy’ and ‘not as embarrassing, Dad, honestly’. Eggsy would be hurt if it wasn’t so funny. 

He pulls up to the school amongst all the other cars, wondering if the middle-aged, harried looking mums also have to deal with secret agents setting a security detail on them. Probably not, but they have other problems. Like husbands, and knitting patterns, and making school lunches. 

“Here you are, Daise,” Eggsy says. She starts to open the door. “Roxy’ll pick you up because I’m working late today, okay?”

“Okay, dad.”

“Have a good day at school,” he says. He knows better than to try and kiss her goodbye by now, so he leaves it at that. She does smile at him as she leaves, though, which is as close to a win as Eggsy can expect for now. He watches her integrate into her friendship circle and disappear into the school doors. 

Her last year of Primary School, he thinks, not really wanting to think about it at all. He’s quite proud of it all, when it comes down to it. Getting a nice enough house, an alright car, a good job, all of it. Sure, he got lumped with a kid when he was twenty two, but it’s turned into a blessing. It’s worth the occasional odd look on the streets, and Daisy’s turning out much better than Eggsy did at her age. 

She’ll be in Year Seven next year, which means he’ll have to scrounge up even more money for school uniform. And then she’ll be taking her GCSEs, and then college, and university if she wants it, and before he can blink she’ll be moving out. 

Eggsy starts the car up again, inhaling for a long time. He lets it all out in one go, before switching gears and reversing back onto the road. He’s got a gun to go shoot. 

* * *

Harry, true to his word, arrives at nine o’clock on the dot. Eggsy hasn’t moved the gun from his kitchen table since last night, half afraid to touch it and half unwilling to even think about the consequences of the past week’s revelations Harry seems to know this, as he breezes past Eggsy to collect the gun without even saying hello. 

“I assume you’re ready to leave.”

“Yeah,” says Eggsy. Harry seems flustered and rushed, which is incredibly unlike all the other times they’ve spoken. 

“Good. I’m in a slight rush,” Harry says. “I would explain but I’m sure you understand how much of a security breach that would be. It took long enough to convince everyone that I should bring you to HQ in the first place.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eggsy says. It’s unsettling to see Harry so improper. 

“It’s no trouble at all. In fact, it’s safer for you there,” Harry says. “The car is unlocked if you want to get in.”

That’s a hint if Eggsy’s ever heard one, so he nods. He tries to bury his concern about his lack of concern about leaving Harry alone in his house and yanks open the front door. Parked on the curb is a wonderfully sleek black Mercedes. It seems so perfectly tailored to Harry himself. Eggsy slides into the passenger seat carefully, almost afraid to put his feet on the floor mat. 

His own car pales in comparison, but there’s still something impersonal about it. The KIA still has the mud tracks in the back seat from when he, Roxy, and Daisy went camping all the way in Cornwall. Harry’s car smells (and looks) like it was deep cleaned yesterday. The left back seat window in Eggsy’s car has a bird poop stain that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard he scrubbed, and the glove box is full of seashells from when he drove down to Brighton beach in the middle of winter. Harry’s glove box is probably full of guns or swords or something. 

Harry opens the driver’s door soon enough, climbing into the seat like he was born there. It’s… undeniably attractive, Eggsy thinks, watching his fingers curl around the steering wheel. You’d have to be blind not to see it, to miss the way Harry seems to relax once the car is purring beneath him. 

He turns his attention back to the road, and Harry does the same. Eggsy doesn’t know quite where he’s going, where Harry’s taking him, so he settles in for the ride. He has a feeling that all of his previous opinions on Harry are about to get turned on their head and torn apart, if he handles a gun like he handles a car. 

* * *

They end up in a private car park somewhere in Savile Row. Eggsy’s never even stepped foot there before, but Harry fits right in. He guides them to a tailor’s shop about half way down the street, and holds the door open for Eggsy to enter. 

“Good morning, Dagonet,” Harry says to the man standing behind the counter. “Is fitting room one available? We have urgent business.”

Dagonet (Eggsy thinks what is it with rich people naming their kids weird things) nods. “Yes, sir. The shuttle is ready and waiting for you.”

Eggsy pretends to understand what they’re talking about. However, when Harry leads him past all the pristine rows of ties and shoes and into a small-ish, fancy fitting room with green walls and the biggest mirror he’s ever seen in his fucking life, his confusion must show on his face. 

Eggsy has never seen a completely green room before, because that tends to be something rich people have. His friends have yellow walls, and stained walls, and blue walls with peeling paint. The green seems to lend itself to look classy and elegant in a undeniably manly way. And strangely intimate. Harry moves to stand in front of the mirror. 

Eggsy makes eye contact with his reflection. “What are we doing here?”

“This,” Harry says, “is Kingsman tailors. A business front, if you will.”

“What, like money laundering but for spies?”

“Well, yes, a bit,” Harry says. “We do, however, truly operate as a tailor shop as well. In fact, the suit is a modern man’s armour. A good suit, impeccably fitted, can do anything to oneself.”

“I thought you were secret agents, not a Marks and Sparks advertiser,” Eggsy says. He can’t quite deny that Harry  _ does  _ look good in a suit, enough to prove his point entirely, though. 

“A disguise is of utmost importance when you work in underbelly of the globe,” Harry says. “Safety and precaution is paramount to ensure our operations and our sister operations work smoothly.”

Eggsy hums. “So there’s more of your lot?”

“We have agencies in America, and France. We did begin building a site in Russia, too, at the very beginnings of our secret agency,” Harry says. 

“You didn’t finish it?”

“No. Unfortunately, the leader of Kingsman at the time seemed to clash with the ideals of the USSR. We’ve yet to re-establish good relations.”

“Shit,” Eggsy says. “What if they decide to nuclear bomb the fuck out of us?”

Harry chuckles. “We are well equipped to handle that possibility. You needn’t worry, everyone who works here is put through rigorous training.”

“Makes me feel loads better,” Eggsy says. “Loads of posh twats protecting my country.”

“And as it should,” Harry says. “You know, we  _ are  _ good at what we do. Kingsman tailors have been outfitting the rich of London since 1849. Whilst our agency didn’t begin until World War One. Many powerful men had lost their heirs during the war, which meant a lot of money going unclaimed. They decided that it would be in the best interests of the Earth to band together and put that money into creating something that would prevent a war like that from ever happening again,” Harry explains. “Of course, that didn’t quite go to plan.”

“So you built locations with, what, the Allies?” Eggsy asks. 

“You know your history,” Harry sounds surprised. “That was the plan. I’m sure you know, America and Russia quickly became very technologically advanced. We had, all of a sudden, money, power, and resources. And the urge to protect and preserve human life in the face of crisis. We were unified.”  
“But?”

“But the unity fell through,” Harry says. “Our agencies still cooperate, and there are more popping up all the time. We make it a priority to play nice, so to say, with all the new powers emerging. And if we can’t play nice, we neutralise them.”

“Right,” Eggsy says. “So a bunch of old, rich guys decided they wanted to be spies so they just did it?”

“Essentially.”

“And now, what? You protect the state of the world?” Eggsy frowns. 

“Quite right,” Harry says. “Perhaps like James Bond, but it’s not as glamorous.”

“Well, crap,” Eggsy says. “Here I was hoping there’d be a Bond Girl here waiting for me. That still doesn’t explain why we’re in a fitting room, though.”

Harry’s eyes light up, like a kid on Christmas day. “Allow me to demonstrate,” he says, with the shit eating kind of grin that makes him look twenty years young. Harry puts his hand on the mirror, like he’s trying to reach through it. However, instead of his hand falling through, his hand starts falling down. 

In fact, the entire room starts falling down. 

“What the fuck?”

“An engineering marvel, isn’t it?” Harry says. “We’re going to the private shuttle. It's the quickest way to enter the official Kingsman premises.”

“Jesus,” Eggsy says. He’s just about convinced that the fitting room probably cost double that of his old flat, if not double of his house as well. He’s almost afraid to breathe. “So we’re going to the actual headquarters?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “I thought it prudent to introduce you to our Knights, our techs, and show you where your father stayed. We’re currently training some new recruits, as well, so perhaps we can look in on them.”

“Recruits?”

“An agent died in the line of fire recently,” Harry explains. “We’re in the process of replacing him.”

“Oh,” Eggsy says, because he has no idea what to say to that. “Right. So.”

Harry doesn’t get a chance to reply before the room-lift-thing stops (smoother than any elevator Eggsy’s ever been on) and he strides out into a corridor. Eggsy follows him over to a sleek, silver train compartment. 

The doors hiss open like some futuristic sci-fi bullshit and Harry steps inside. There’s four seats, two opposite one another. Harry sits, so Eggsy sits opposite, trying to ignore his heart in his stomach. The doors hiss shut, almost drowning out Harry’s question of, “are you alright?”

Eggsy’s not sure what his answer truly would be, so he pretends like he didn’t hear it. Harry doesn’t ask it again, and by that time, the train has started to speed, and Eggsy is too busy trying not to vomit all over the upholstery to speak actual words. 

* * *

The journey, over all, takes about half an hour. Eggsy isn’t sure how many miles that is, because Harry didn’t say anything when he asked, and he was a bit too afraid to ask again. He’d rather not risk international security by forcing Harry to specify how far away from London his secret base is.   
Harry did, however, intersperse the ride with tiny pieces of trivia, like his favourite ice cream flavour (mint choc chip, like a heathen), his secret passions (lepidoptery, which Eggsy had never heard of before and never wants to again, actually, because butterflies are insanely creepy, dead or alive), and discussing the merits of silk pillowcases versus thousand thread count Egyptian ones (which is just the Rich Person sort of thing Eggsy had expected. He does just fine with the stripy Primark bed sheets). 

The conversation had managed to stave of the worst of Eggsy’s sickness, so when he stepped out of the shuttle, he only wobbled a tiny bit, and Harry either didn’t notice or was graceful enough to ignore it (both of which Eggsy counted as a blessing, since he’d embarrassed himself enough already in front of the man). 

Once his feet are back on solid ground, Harry leads him out of a door into an airlock chamber, and then into a little foyer area, and then through more doors (all of which have several security measures, like retina scanners and fingerprints and the smallest little key Eggsy has ever seen). Eventually, they reach what looks like a reception area, with several people manning a desk and workers milling about with clipboards and trolleys.

Several wave to Harry, and then do a double take at Eggsy. Harry ignores it, so Eggsy does too. Harry looks like he fits in completely amongst the crowds of suit wearers, with immaculate hair and shiny shoes. Eggsy feels self conscious of his tatty, second hand Adidas all of a sudden.

“Where are we going?” Eggsy asks. He’s struck with the sudden urge to hold Harry’s hand (purely so he doesn’t get seperated, which probably opens up several avenues that a therapist would be very interested in assessing). They’ve walked past hundreds of muscle-y people in business-casual suits and hair from L’Oreal commercials, and probably millions of heavy, dark oak doors, all supposedly full of: a) very attractive secret spies, b) awesome secret spy gadgets, or c) boring offices. 

“To the hangar,” Harry says, like Eggsy is supposed to know what that means. Harry seems to realise this, and continues. “It’s a garage, where we house our aircraft and vehicles.”

“So this really is like a movie?”

“I suppose so,” Harry says. He turns down several corridors. “We’re nearly there. After we’ve seen this, I’ll show you to the Dining room and we’ll call a meeting.”

“Huh, alright,” Eggsy says, and then they turn a final corner and the hangar appears, and all other words fall out of his head. 

Harry chuckles. “You know, your father had the same reaction. As did I.”

“That’s mental,” Eggsy says. “How do you even get them all in here?”

“The roof opens up.”

“Of fucking course it does,” Eggsy breathes. “Holy shit.”

They stand in silence for several minutes. Eggsy watches the comings and goings in the hangar, admiring the smooth sleek lines of the cars and planes and, in the far left corner, the red double decker. He recognises a second Bentley, and a Lambo, too, as well as a few Minis and a Fiat 500. Better for undercover work, he guesses. Or shorter legs?

“We can come back later,” Harry says after a while. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the knights.”

“The knights?” Eggsy repeats. “Is that why you’re called Kingsman?”

Harry starts off back the way they came. Or at least, Eggsy assumes that. All the corridors look the same, and he’s already lost himself in the rabbit warren. “Yes. The agents are named after the Knights of the Round Table. King Arthur, Merlin, the lot.”

“So who are you?” Eggsy asks. 

Harry reddens. “Well. I suppose I’d be Arthur.”

“You suppose or you are?”

“I am,” Harry says. “At least, by the paperwork. Practicing leader of the agency. I’d argue that Merlin is the true authoritarian here, though.”

“Who’s Merlin?” Eggsy asks. Harry turns another corner and the walls start to become dark. There are paintings lining them, heavy oil paintings of silver armour and old cars and men. 

“Our technological master,” Harry says. “A wizard, some may say. He develops the vast majority of our spyware.”

“Sick,” Eggsy says. “So you’re the King and he’s the wizard? And the other agents are the knights?”

“Quite right.”

“Huh. I think if I had a secret agency, I’d name everyone after Roman emperors.”

Harry chuckles. He stops in front of a double oak door. “Now, this is our Dining room. Our most important meetings happen here.”

Eggsy doesn’t know what to say once Harry opens the door. The room exudes the same kind of energy as the fitting room at the shop; old, homely, and heavy, but classy and organic. The walls are, once again, painted in a dark green, and lined with gilded frames and paintings. A glossy table and a dozen or so chairs, each with a crested place mat marks the centre. 

“Fuck,” Eggsy says, appreciatively. 

Harry steps inside and up to the chair at the very end of the table. He looks incredibly regal, sitting there. It fits him absolutely perfectly. When Harry gestures for Eggsy to sit in the seat at his right hand, Eggsy tries not to slouch. 

“Now, the other agents on site will be along soon,” Harry says. “For now, put these on.”

He hands over a pair of black-rimmed glasses, before sliding a second, identical pair, onto his own nose. Eggsy takes them, adjusting them on his face just for something to do with his hands. 

“What are these for?”

“It’ll become apparent momentarily,” Harry says. “Nothing to worry about.”

The room begins to welcome three other men, all wearing identical glasses, and fancy suits. They all sit down, equally spaced amongst the table, barely casting a glance to Eggsy. 

Harry announces, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Glasses, please.”

Eggsy doesn’t know  _ how _ , but all of a sudden the rest of the table fills. All looking vaguely computer-y, like apparitions, or really poor Skype call quality, but defined enough that he can tell they all belong where they are. He bites down on his lip, wondering just how advanced Kingsman is from the rest of the world. 

“Welcome all,” Harry says. Eggsy thinks he’s a good leader. Already authoritative enough to send shivers down his spine (in a respective sort of way), but clearly amicable and peaceful. It’s quite attractive, and Eggsy doesn’t know how much hotter Harry could be. “As you can see, we have an extra member in attendance. Some of you may recognise the name, but this is Eggsy Unwin. His father served with us and died in the line of duty thirty years ago, and ever since, we’ve been tasked with providing undetectable defence and protection to the family.”

There’s a smattering of light, polite applause. 

Harry continues on. “Today, I thought it would be a good idea to finally introduce ourselves and the agency to Eggsy, with the intention of making our job easier and his.”

One of the Skype call men speaks up. “Surely this will just increase other danger, though?”

“You raise a good point, Lamorak,” Harry says. “Of course, that isn’t something I take lightly. Which is why Eggsy will receive a weapons course. I do believe however, that revealing ourselves to Eggsy will allow us to better protect him and his family, and thus eliminate more danger, quicker and more effectively. As we’ve always done.”

Lamorak nods, quelled. Eggsy doesn’t want to look up, because he can feel their eyes flickering over him. 

“I want to use our time today to introduce Eggsy to our world,” Harry says. “I trust him not to spread any information shared here.”

“With your surveillance, I’m sure you’d all know if I did, anyway,” Eggsy says. It’s the first he’s spoken, so everyone’s eyes immediately go to him.

One of the men laughs. “Good point there, mate. What with all those feelers Arthur’s put out everywhere, there’s nothing we don’t know.”

It takes Eggsy’s mind a few seconds to remember that Harry is Arthur. And then another few to think that there are  _ several  _ things that he hopes Kingsman (Harry in particular) don’t actually know. Like internet browser history, or his saved-for-later on Amazon. 

Harry chuckles too. “Quite right you are. I’d also like to use this opportunity to teach Eggsy about self defence, should he ever need to use it. He’ll likely be frequenting the house soon, so make yourselves welcoming.”

There’s a murmur of, “yes sir” across the table, directed to Harry. Eggsy gives himself two breaths to appreciate how downright hot that is before getting his brain back on track. 

“Now, then,” Harry continues. “Unless there’s anything else we ought to discuss… meeting adjourned.”

The holograms flicker out, leaving the three men, Harry, and Eggsy sitting there. One of them speaks up. “Well, then. I’m sure we’ve all got work to do. Galahad, I want your reports finished and on my desk by this evening.”

Galahad, presumably, makes a face. He has dark hair with a white stripe through the front, kind of old in an attractive sort of way. “Yes, Merlin.”

Merlin, the bald one with the glasses on his nose and a second pair tucked into his shirt, makes a face far too young for him. “Good man. Nice to meet you, Eggsy,” he says, directing his attention to him. 

“Yes, sir,” Eggsy says, because he’s not sure how else to address him. 

Merlin makes a face that might be a smile and leaves. Galahad, and the other agent (“That’s Gwaine,” Harry says, nudging Eggsy,) follow him out, and then it's just Harry and Eggsy. 

Eggsy and Harry. Alone, in a room far too classy for Eggsy to feel comfortable. 

The air is incredibly thick and heavy. Eggsy inhales, and it feels like jelly. Harry seems to have the same issue. 

“Right-“

“Well, then-“

The thickness dissipates as soon as it came. Eggsy blushes. “What now, then?”

* * *

They go to the firing ranges. Harry shows him round the multitudes of gymnasiums in the building (there’s a pool, a springboard floor for gymnastics, an obstacle course, an actual golf range, and several tennis courts too), and Eggsy spends the majority of the tour with his jaw hanging out. 

He loses track of time watching Harry fire bullets off. His fingers smooth over the gun like he’s handled them since he was a child; and maybe he has.   
Eggsy’s never fired a gun. He’s seen it, once, when Kat’s dad on the Estates never paid back a debt and got shot in the knee for his troubles. Just the noise alone was jarring enough. But watching Harry do it, watching Harry’s understated confidence and his understanding of his weapon, his respect and appreciation for it. It’s enough to overwrite his previous opinion. 

It’s… intense. Doubly so, when Harry decides it’s Eggsy’s turn, and that means Harry standing behind him, pressed against his back, moulding his body into an appropriate stance. Eggsy feels like putty under his touch, lets Harry squeeze the trigger with his finger.

And then reality floods back in. The alarm on Eggsy’s watch goes off, announcing that he has half an hour until his shift. Harry steps away suddenly, like he hadn’t realised how close they’d been and Eggsy feels incomplete without it. He hands back the gun, silences his alarm, says, “I have to get back.”

“Of course,” Harry says. His tone errs more on professional formality, now. Eggsy deeply misses the focused whisper of five minutes earlier, as Harry had breathed out his instructions. “I apologise for keeping you so long.”

“No worries,” Eggsy manages to say. “Do you think I could… get a lift? Only I’ve gotta get to work.”

Harry nods. “Yes, of course. I’m afraid I have work to do as well, else I’d drive you myself. I can call one of our drivers, though. They’re all appropriately qualified.”

Eggsy decides not to mention that he’s not overly bothered about the qualification of his lift. He’s been desperate enough to not pass it a second thought - though Harry probably has that on record, anyway. “No problem, mate. Just soon as you can. Gotta be there for two.”

“Understandably,” Harry says. He pulls a phone out of his pocket and taps away at it, leaving Eggsy in silence. Leaving Eggsy to revel in the stifling awkwardness of said silence. 

God. This’ll be the death of him. 


	2. roma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoy!!!
> 
> (funfact: avilion (also called avalon, or avallon), was a place in the old arthurian legend. it literally means 'isle of fruit trees'! given the whole ancient society concept im going for here with the titles and forewords, and the whole arthurian aspect to kingsmen, i thought it was remarkably appropriate!)

_ (Strength, power. A soldier, a citizen. Songs of deeds, a rise and fall. Civilisation, empirical, chansons de geste. Monarchical, democratic, militarian; conquest, assimilation, battle. Blood of thy enemies shall water thy flowers. Ethereal supremacy, myth and mystique. She is an empire. She is destined to fall.) _

* * *

Eventually, ten hours later, Eggsy collapses on Roxy’s sofa. After a full day of almost inappropriate contact with Actual Spy; Harry Hart, telling old people how their computers work, and twenty minutes on the tube at midnight, he’s about at his wits end. 

Roxy, bless her heart, has already put Daisy to bed in her room and set up two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s and wine glasses on her coffee table. Eggsy loves her. He properly does. 

She curls into his side, handing one of the ice cream tubs to him and pushing a wine glass into his other hand. “Come on, then. Drink up. Daisy’s been telling me all about this sexy piece of arse you’ve had hanging around these days.”

Eggsy drains about half of the wine and groans. “Fuck. Yeah. Harry Hart. He’s that guy I called you about - ‘parently, he worked with my dad. And he and his organisation’s been stalkin’ me for my entire life.”

“Shit,” Roxy says, sounding almost disappointed. “Is he as sexy as implied, then?”

“More so. He wears completely bespoke suits, you know, you can see practically  _ everything.  _ But it’s fucking weird, Rox. I barely know who he is, and he knows all about me. He’s got all these fancy cars, looks right outta place around me, and he barely looks a day over forty. He even brought a gun round. I don’t think I’ve ever been more stressed.”

“He brought a gun?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says. He digs out a spoonful of ice cream. “It’s prob’ly highly classified and I shouldn’t be telling you, so don’t go repeating it. But he’s a spy.”

Roxy gives him a look. “This isn’t a Bond movie, come on, Eggsy.”

“Honest to God,” Eggsy says. “Swear on my life. On Daisy’s. I went there today. To his secret agency base. Got to shoot guns with him and everything.”

“Is that a euphemism-“

“Gross,” Eggsy glares at her. “No, it’s not. But I promise ya, I’m telling the truth. I dunno what to fucking do.”

Roxy licks her spoon clean. “So, let’s get this straight. You’ve got the hots for a man twenty years your senior, who just so happens to be a secret agent who worked with your dead father (who died twenty six years ago), and also he’s been stalking you since then. And now you’re going to his base and shooting weapons with him, which is definitely not a euphemism for something?”

Eggsy nods. “Yeah.”

“Wow,” Roxy says. She lets out a heavy exhale. “You’re fucked, Eggsy. Completely fucked.”

Eggsy nods again. “Yeah. Probably.”

She sighs, swallowing another spoonful of ice cream. “Why are they even stalking you, though? If I was getting stalked, I’d like to know why.”

“I don’t know exactly. Harry just said that I’m in danger from bad guys? Because my da worked for Kingsman, they think I know something.”

“But he died when you were six.”

Eggsy shrugs, “yeah. I dunno. Maybe they think he left me information? I’ve got no fucking idea. Just that that’s apparently what’s going on. If you can even trust them to tell me the truth. I guess they’ve been following me around secretly for twenty blinking years.”

“I think that’s creepy,” Roxy says. “You know when you texted me, I was mostly joking. But it’s actually pretty creepy now. Maybe you should just ignore them all now.”

“Maybe.”

“I mean,” Roxy continues. “If what they’re saying can be believed, then maybe this is a plot to kidnap you in the first place.”

Eggsy turns to look at her. “That’s completely stupid,” he says. “How would they know all that shit if they weren’t genuine? And why would they have taken me to the headquarters?”

“People can hack into anything these days,” Roxy reminds him.

“As I know all too well,” Eggsy says. Roxy had helped to fund his university courses, getting him a Bachelor’s in computer science and software programming. Roxy lended herself more to the archaic side of education, having taken classical studies and history, and then done a postgrad in education, and managed to find a job teaching at the local secondary school. 

“You could always do with a reminder, though,” Roxy says. She tops up his wine glass like he doesn’t have to go into work tomorrow - thankfully, it’s another two o’clock start, and he thanks his lucky stars that he got both the job he wanted, and that he got a shift that doesn’t start at eight in the morning. “Internet safety is nothing to play about with.”

Eggys obediently takes a sip of the wine. He’s sure he’ll end up with a wine hangover tomorrow, feeling like his brain is melting out of his ears. The only consolation is that Roxy will probably end up with the same. “Yeah, alright. Come on. Enough about me and my secret agent escapades. How was your day?”

“Ugh. I had the year ten’s for most of today. ‘Course, I love some of them,” Roxy says. “But God, they’re insufferable. Incorrigible. Absolutely fucking awful. All stressed about their GCSEs. They’ve got another year!”

Eggsy laughs. “You were exactly the same. In fact, you started worrying in year eight.”

“That’s because I had ambition. Half of them wouldn’t know Mary I from bloody Hitler,” Roxy says. “I don’t know why they even took history. It makes it absolutely miserable for the rest of us.”

“But they’re from totally different periods,” Eggsy frowns.

“I know! One of them wrote me an essay on World War One, and I was teaching about the War of the Roses,” Roxy sighs heavily. “I don’t know how any of them are even going to pass next year.”

“Then they’re right to be stressed,” Eggsy says. “Maybe getting a F would teach them a lesson.”

“Yeah, and then it’d be too late,” Roxy says. “Oh, well. They’ll get their heads out of their arses soon enough. On their own heads be it, and all that. Bitchy year tens are nothing in comparison to a spy.”

Eggsy grimaces. “Think I’d rather have the year tens, if I’m honest. The spy may be hot but the circumstances are not.”

“Seriously?” Roxy scoffs. “Maybe you should come in and teach for a day, then see what you say. I’d take a sexy secret agent over GCSE students.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Eggsy says. He sighs, leaning forward to replace the ice cream tub on the coffee table, before sinking back into Roxy’s sofa. He’s spent so many evenings in this exact position that the cushion moulds to his slouch like its muscle memory. “God, Rox. I dunno what I’m gonna do.”

Roxy pats his arm, curling her fingers around his elbow. “You’ll survive. Like we’ve always done.”

* * *

The next morning, Eggsy wakes up on Roxy’s sofa. His head is suitably fogged up, and he hopes it’ll dissipate throughout the day. He sits up as fast as he dares, takes note of the now fully melted ice cream sitting on the coffee table and the unnerving stillness of her flat. 

Eggsy yawns, stretches, blinks several times in an attempt to remove the tiredness from his eyes, and stands, collecting the ice cream tubs from the table and taking them to the kitchen. He puts them on the counter, knowing Roxy’ll never forgive him if he throws them out (‘Seriously, Eggsy, it’s like an ice cream soup!’).

There’s also a note on the fridge, scribbled over the bottom half of what looks like a shopping list:

_ Frozen sweetcorn _

_ Milk _

_ Apples _

_ Eggsy! Took Daisy off to school since you overslept. I’ll be back this evening and I’ll bring Daisy back here too, so don’t worry about her. Stay as long as you want, just don’t forget to lock the door when you leave. Love, Roxy _

Eggsy smiles, pulling out his phone and texting Roxy in reply:

_ Got ur note. Thx for taking Daisy. _

He doesn’t expect a reply, so he busies himself washing up the cereal bowl Daisy must have used this morning, and their glasses from last night. He’s then about to start off back to his house, when he spots Roxy’s lunch box still sitting by the front door. Eggsy’s got one foot out the door, almost about to leave it…

Shit. He grabs the box, locks her front door, and starts off home, where he jumps in his car and makes a detour to the school.

* * *

“Mr Unwin?” the office lady says when he pushes open the main entrance door. “Are you here for Daisy?”

“Uh- no, actually. I’m here for Roxy, Miss Morton,” Eggsy says. He gestures to her lunch box. “She forgot her lunch today so I thought I’d drop it in.”

The lady smiles at him. “How sweet. I’ll just give her a ring, then, and see if she’s able to collect it.”

Eggsy smiles back tightly, taking a seat on a chair in the corner and looks around. There’s several pieces of art decorating the walls, evidently done by students, and a few certificates as well.

“Miss Morton said you can drop it in to her room,” the lady says. “You know where it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I won’t bother giving you a visitor badge, since you’ll only be two minutes,” she says. “Go on, then.”

Eggsy wiggles his fingers in a sort of wave. “Thanks,” he says, on his way out of the doors. 

Roxy’s classroom, if he remembers it right, isn’t far from the office, somewhere in the humanities block. He thinks he’s in the humanities block, hopefully, and Roxy’s room number is in her phone passcode, 12, so he keeps an eye on the door numbers.

Just his luck that she’ll have a lesson right now.

He knocks on the door anyway, gritting his teeth, because goddammit, he’s thirty two years old, and not afraid of a few fourteen year olds. 

The class starts whispering once he knocks, and Roxy pulls open the door quickly, grinning. “Eggsy!”

Eggsy smiles back, he can’t help it. There’s a powerpoint on the board displaying something about Queen Elizabeth’s religious settlement, but he can’t make much more about it out. “Forgot your lunch today,” he says, holding out the box. “Thought I’d drop it in. Can’t have you going hungry, can we?”

Roxy giggles, taking it. “Thanks, Eggsy. I’m still collecting Daisy today, right?”

“If that’s okay,” Eggsy says. “Got another late shift.”

“That’s fine. Now,” she says. “I’ve got a class to teach. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Eggsy nods. “Have a good lesson, ‘Miss’.”

Roxy glares at him until she closes the door. She does, however, leave it open enough for Eggsy to hear her class erupt in cheers, demanding “Is that your boyfriend, miss?!” and teasing whistles. He’s not quite sure if she does it on purpose or not.

* * *

_ Good afternoon, Eggsy. I was wondering if one of my colleagues would be able to see you today, at work. We took the liberty of assessing the building when you first were employed, however, given the recent developments in our service to you, I thought it would be a good idea for someone to meet you there now. I don’t mean to alarm you, but the international situation is worsening and I feel it would be prudent to take precautions sooner rather than later. I hope you understand. I’m afraid I can’t tell you who will meet you yet, but I’m sure you’ll know when you see them. Thank you, H. Hart. _

Eggsy’s sprawled on the sofa, watching reruns of _Loose Women_ , when the text comes through from a private number. He assumes it’s Harry even before he reaches the end, and by then he’s trying not to panic over whatever ‘the international situation is worsening’ means.

He saves Harry’s contact, wondering if that’s a breach of security or not, before texting back:  _ Yh, ok. Can’t really miss u lot, can I? What with ur bloody suits and cars. Am I ever gonna get to know more about this international situation? _

Harry’s reply comes through several minutes later:  _ Eggsy; I regret that we cannot tell you more at the moment. Particularly over the phone - of course, our network is incredibly secure, but you can never be too careful. As it is, were I not the head of Kingsman, there would have been an outcry at what you’ve already been told. Not to mention, it would greatly threaten security for you and the country. You can never trust these super villain types. I would gladly tell you as much as I could, but whilst I may be in charge, I can’t discount the views of the agency as a whole. Now, I do have work to do, as I’m sure you do as well. Don’t let me keep you. H. Hart. _

Eggsy replies:  _ Ur hardly keeping me. I’m just watching daytime tv, don’t have work for another three hours. Ur distraction is welcome. _

There’s another several minute delay before Harry’s next message. Eggsy waits as patiently as he can (which, incidentally, isn’t that patiently at all).

_ Eggsy, if you’re looking for something to do, perhaps you would let me take you for lunch? One of the positives of my job is a ludicrous salary and the ability to take a lunch break whenever I desire. H. Hart. _

Eggsy feels his heart jump. The women on the TV start discussing the merits of hypno-birthing. He’s almost too anxious to reply, because it sounds like a date. Which is probably all kinds of fucked up, like a psychiatrist’s field day. It’s remarkably close to some bizarre interpretation of Stockholm syndrome.

He says yes anyway.

* * *

Harry pulls Merlin up on his glasses as soon as Eggsy’s text comes through, almost relishing in Merlin’s long-suffering groan.

“Christ, man, what is it now?”

“I’m going out for lunch,” Harry says. “I thought I’d let you know before I disappear. Lest you send out a search party again.”

Harry can just picture his face. “Oh, don’t bring that up again. It was one time. It was a safety measure.”

“It was an overreaction,” Harry sniffs.

“You’d been gone for five days, without checking in,” Merlin reminds him. “While tracking a mercenary with over two hundred kills under his belt. And fourteen years experience in krav maga, which is, incidentally, an art you have no experience with.”

“Like I said,” Harry said. “An overreaction.”

Merlin’s heavy sigh is answer enough. “Where are you going, anyway? Last I checked, Harry Hart doesn’t have enough free time nor free friends to go out with.”

“If you must know, I’m taking Eggsy to lunch.”

“Unwin?”

“That’s the only Eggsy we know,” Harry says. “And I’m leaving now. I’ll be back before two, I’m sure.”

Merlin, fortunately, doesn’t make any smart remarks. He just says, “Very well. Thank you for actually telling me this time. And Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Harry chuckles. “Quite right, Merlin. We are, first and foremost, gentlemen.”

“Oh, off with you,” Merlin says, and then he hangs up. 

* * *

Harry picks Eggsy up in Rolls Royce Ghost, which is perhaps showing off a bit. But seeing Eggsy’s face is worth it, seeing his eyes light up and his lip curl and his cheeks flush like he’s falling in love for the first time.

It’s definitely excessive. But Harry can’t bring himself to mind. Eggsy looks like he so utterly belongs, running a finger across the perfect gloss of the interior. 

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy says. Harry looks at him from the driver's seat, trying not to smile. “You couldn’t leave this sorta thing around here. God. I’m so glad you ain’t ever seen my KIA yet, Christ. You’d never wanna be seen with me again.”

“A car is simply an accessory,” Harry says. “I’m sure your car is perfectly fine. As it is, I’m simply trying to impress you.” He doesn’t mention that he knows nearly everything about Eggsy’s car, from when he last filled the gas tank to how much he has left to pay off for it. It would be weird to bring that up.

“So you’re bringing all your expensive cars out to impress me?”

“Yes,” Harry says. He starts the Rolls, feeling the car awaken beneath him. “Is it working?”

Eggsy twists his fingers together. “Does it make me stupid if I say yes?”

“Not at all.”

“Well,” Eggsy starts, then stops. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

Harry glances at him before turning down a road. “What’s weird?”

“Well, this. You know, not many people get a spy to stalk them because they’re in international danger,” Eggsy says. “And now you’re bringing out all your fancy cars, and taking me for lunch. Tongues will wag.”

“Let them,” Harry says. “Forty seven years of life tends to disregard such gossip.”

“My thirty two are still stuck on them,” Eggsy says. “‘Sides, I gotta think about Daisy. I can’t make it too easy.”

“The thrill is in the chase,” Harry murmurs. 

“And never in the capture?”

“Quite the opposite, I’d say.”

“Mm,” Eggsy pauses for a minute, and by then, the spell is broken. “So, where are you taking me, anyway?”

“An agent, Lancelot, recommended it to me,” Harry says. “A small family owned cafe. I’ve heard wonderful things about their sashimi, and having been meaning to try them. What better time than today?”

“Sashimi?”

“Fish,” Harry explains. “It’s a Japanese delicacy. Sashimi is fresh, raw fish. I first had it in Japan, and haven’t found a place to compare yet. Lancelot informed me that this may be a worthy contender. I looked at the menu online, and they do sushi as well. Is that… okay?”

“I’ll try anything once,” Eggsy says. “I’ve never had anything like that. Don’t get to go many places.”

Harry makes another turn, into a high street. “Well, where would you like to go if you could?”

“What, like anywhere?”

“Anywhere in the world.”

“Rome,” Eggsy answers immediately. “Or Greece. Like, mainland Greece. Or Egypt.”

“Somewhere historic?”

Eggsy blushes. “Yeah. My best mate, Roxy, she’s a history teacher. We both had an interest in it, except I chose computer science and technology, when she went for history. Still, it means I’ve picked loads up since we were in uni. Her favourite is modern history, but mine is ancient. ‘Specially Romans.”

“Yes, you mentioned the emperors the other day,” Harry says.

“Hah. Yeah. I just think it’s so cool, you know?” Eggsy smiles, clearly bashful. “Like, their whole concept of society.”

“Political history?”

“Not really. Just… how it worked. Like, in Sparta. How they’d kill their ugly children, and boys were put into, like, a military system when they were, like, seven,” Eggsy scoffs. “I guess it’s stupid.”

“Hardly stupid,” Harry says. “I understand the appeal. It can be so telling about modern times and techniques, can’t it?”

Eggsy nods. “Exactly. See, Roxy gets that but not in the same way. She does a lot on world wars, and that stuff, ‘specially ‘cause she’s teaching GCSEs at the moment. So she understands it but a bit differently. ‘Cause her lessons are more about the impact of history on modern society. I’m more interested in the mirroring of ancient standards in modern ones. If that makes sense.”

“And I assume she has to stick to a curriculum, whereas you can research whatever you like?” Harry suggests. 

“Yeah. Good thing that she likes the eras she teaches, though.”

“Quite,” Harry says. “You know, Eggsy, you’re remarkably bright.”

“Thanks?”

“I hold you in high regard,” Harry continues. “Of course, we knew your academic ability was astounding. But your emotional and mental ability is incredibly developed as well. Beyond your years, as some might say. It’s rather refreshing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

“I fully intend it as such,” Harry says. He turns into a car park, pulling into the nearest spot effortlessly. “It’s not often I get to meet a man as young as you with such a high level of emotional and academic intelligence.”

Eggsy blows out a laugh. “Well, thanks, then. You’re not so bad yourself. Are we here?”

Harry nods. “We are indeed. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Are you sure the car will be alright here?”

“Quite sure,” Harry says. “Kingsmen implants a tracker system into any of our vehicles, along with appropriate security measures. It’ll be fine here.”

Eggsy hums. “Guess so. I’m just used to the Estates. You know, car alarms going off every night. There’d be a police call at least once a week.”

Harry is struck, once again, by the social vacuum between them. Having grown up on his parents’ land, in long, lonely hallways, with other little boys and girls with clothes too proper to sit comfortably in, he’s completely unknown to Eggsy’s past. Eggsy had grown up with drunk, old men and just barely scraping enough money together for food. While he had been going on family vacations to America, or Paris, Eggsy had been on road trips to Wales, or package holidays at Butlins.

It makes him feel overwhelmingly guilty, all over again, at Eggsy’s father’s death. Whether all of Eggsy’s hardships would have been preventable, had his father lived. Had Harry done more.

But that’s a spider’s web he’s learnt not to snare himself in. Twenty five years on the job has taught him more than enough to know that focusing on the past hurts more than it helps, and mistakes can’t be fixed in the future. 

“That sounds difficult,” Harry manages to say around the suffocating guilt stuck in his throat.

Eggsy merely shrugs. “That’s the Estates for you. Anyway, come on. There’s some raw fish just waiting to be eaten.”

* * *

The restaurant itself is rustic and wooden, softly lit. It’s like stepping into another universe, Harry thinks, a hallmark of a good establishment. A server leads him and Eggsy to an intimate table far in the corner, and Harry relishes in Eggsy’s awed look as they travel through the tables.

“This is beautiful,” Eggsy whispers, after the server has shown them their table. The atmosphere feels like a library, prompting the hush.

“It is, isn’t it,” Harry replies, picking up a drinks menu and browsing through it. 

“Intimate, though.”

“Is that a problem?”

Eggsy holds his hands up in an imitation of a surrender. “Hey, I’m not complainin’. Bit romantic.”

“Yes,” Harry says. He tries to ignore how his heart jumps at the suggestion, because he’s forty seven, for Christ’s sake, not a teenager on a first date. He’s not even  _ on  _ a date, he tells himself. He’s out for lunch with a… a friend. “Perhaps not appropriate for a lunchtime meal.” Yet he can’t bring himself to complain.

“I was just gonna have baked beans, mate, this is worlds better,” Eggsy says. “Although, I don’t know if you want me to pay you back for this…?”

“Nonsense. I invited you out, I should foot the bill,” Harry says. “I wouldn’t expect you to pay for anything when you’re with me. Lord knows I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Careful, there,” Eggsy smirks. “Else you’ll have people thinkin’ you’re a sugar daddy.”

“I’m sure people already do,” Harry remarks. “It’s no secret that I like to spoil those who interest me.”

Eggsy blushes again. He’s wonderfully easy, Harry thinks. It’s wildly inappropriate, not only given their unfortunate meeting circumstances, but also Eggsy’s daughter, and their wildly different social circles. Not to mention, Harry’s occupation. Whilst Eggsy may hold the respectable enough title of ‘senior IT worker’, Harry has been on several hit lists throughout his lifetime, which is just the thing he’d prefer not to expose Eggsy to (despite all evidence of how he currently  _ is _ failing to protect Eggsy from it). 

It’s the exact kind of warring mental crisis Merlin might have warned him about, had it ever worked before.

* * *

All things considered, lunch goes rather well. There are no attempts on his life, and the sashimi is as good as Harry had hoped it would be. Eggsy, Harry is pleased to discover, is ready and willing to try anything put in front of him (reasons for which Harry is reluctant to analyse). It does make him an appreciative lunch partner, and interesting as well. Harry is able to regale him with tales of his travels, censored appropriately enough.

Eggsy is, predictably, most excited to hear about Harry’s mission in Florence. It had been one of Harry’s favourites, too, and being able to stimulate Eggsy’s obvious thirst for knowledge with anecdotes from his past is rewarding as it is. Eggsy manages to add to the story with references to landmarks and places like he’d been there himself, just more evidence of his passion. It endears Harry more than it perhaps should.

Harry would consider it a success. He makes sure to inform Merlin as such when he drops Eggsy off at his office and slides his glasses back on once he’s safely in the Rolls.

Merlin, as Harry expected, just sends him a curt ‘get back here, you have work to do’, and gets on with it. Harry is all too willing to put the car in gear and head back, his mind filled with reruns of the meal like some witless seventeen year old.

By the time he gets back to HQ, Merlin is waiting in the foyer with a face like stone. Harry allows himself five more seconds of peace before bringing up his defences. Merlin, however stoney his demeanor may be, tends to keep it out of his expression.

“There’s a problem.”

“I’d gathered as such,” Harry says. “What is it?”

“Tilde’s in trouble. We’ve had to deploy a medic car and two get away teams to her location,” Merlin says. “She was undercover, keeping an eye on the underworld.”

Harry grimaces. He had never enjoyed the missions wading through the international underbelly of government. It was one of the more casually dangerous responsibilities. He’s more inclined to the flashy missions, lots of guns, and sports cars, and explosions wherever possible. 

“She had picked up something about Eggsy, when her cover was blown. We still don’t know how, so we’re on lockdown until we can figure out if we have a mole, or if something just went…”

“Tits up,” Harry suggests.

Merlin nods. “Exactly. She’s enroute now, and we’ve got the med bay set up for when she arrives. But we’ll need to discuss this further. It might be a bigger issue than I’d like it to be.”

“You mean if we do have a mole?” Harry asks.

“Precisely. The nature of this agency is built on trust, isn’t it? We can’t keep a look out for every single member of personnel who works here, and what with our current preoccupation with Eggsy, and keeping that situation under control, it means other angles can grow,” Merlin says. “We simply don’t have enough active agents, or handlers, to keep an eye out for all the loose ends. Which means, we need to decide which to focus on. Whether we protect Eggsy and spread our resources thin, or we trust he can be smart, and focus on the rest of the world.”

“That’s not a fair decision.”

“No,” Merlin says, “but I wouldn’t ask you to make it if I didn’t have to.”

“And we can’t do both?”

“Not without seriously depleting resources. Which would put everyone at risk.”

“Christ,” Harry says. “And to think. I was having such a nice day.”

Merlin sighs. “I hate to ask it of you, Harry. But I’ve already tried to puzzle out a way in which it would be possible to do it all.”

“And there isn’t one?”

“Not an easy one.”

“So there’s a hard one?” Harry asks. Merlin nods, slowly, reluctantly. “Well, what is it?”

“We bring Eggsy here. We keep him here, or move him in with an agent for a while. He could stay with you,” Merlin says. “But that could compromise the whole investigation. Once people find out he’s staying with us, it might worsen things by tenfold. It’d put everyone in even more danger. I just don’t know if that’s a risk we can afford to take.”

The thing, Harry thinks, about Merlin, is his frustrating ability to make complete sense whilst telling Harry everything he doesn’t want to hear. He knows what Merlin is saying is true, that putting the agency at risk is a fool's mistake, and that it’s simply not possible. Except…

“For Eggsy,” Harry says, and he knows, however deep in his heart he can get, that it’s true, “I’d risk anything.”

Merlin’s pitying look is sobering. It seems to say ‘Good Christ, Harry Hart, you’ve fallen further than you ever have before, faster than you ever have before. This might be the biggest mistake of your life, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces, so you’d better not regret any of this.’

Which, well. Harry supposes that’s entirely fair.

He starts off towards his office, already anticipating the flood of paperwork and forms he’ll have to do in order to get the situation under control again. Merlin follows him, tapping away at a phone, then a tablet, and then balancing a laptop in the crook of his elbow.

When they reach Harry’s office door, Merlin pauses. “Speaking of, Harry.”

“Speaking of what?”

“How  _ was  _ your date with Eggsy?”

* * *

The man waiting for Eggsy when he gets into work says his name is Percival. He’s nearly as tall as Harry is, but much wider. Eggsy feels much more intimidated, if only by virtue of Percival’s studious silence, made all the more intense by his glare out the window.

It’s like he’s just waiting for something to go wrong. Eggsy feels deeply unsettled by it, as he tries to sit down and get on with his work. It’s overwhelmingly distracting. He taps a staccato on his spacebar, waiting for someone to call for his attention, watching Percival from the corner of his eye.

“Is there a coffee machine around here?” Percival asks. It’s the third sentence he’s said since Eggsy met him.

“Ye- yes,” Eggsy says. “Uh. It’s just down at the end of the hall. There should be a kitchenette on the left.”

Percival seems to assess him for a second. Eggsy tries not to feel too violated. Then he nods once, and stands, and he leaves. Eggsy feels like he can finally breathe again. Christ.

Percival returns with two small white china mugs of black coffee and several sachets of sugar and little milk pots. He sets one down in front of Eggsy like a dove procuring an olive branch, alongside a pile of milk and sugar. 

“Thanks,” Eggsy says, wondering first whether it’s been poisoned or tampered with in some way. Percival smiles (at least, Eggsy thinks it’s a smile, since it looks more like a grimace), and sips his own mug. Eggsy decides it’s safe enough, and dumps enough sugar in to kill a horse. 

Percival’s smile takes on a decidedly more grimace-like appearance. 

“So,” says Eggsy, after he’s drunk about half of the mug and settled his wits, and now determined to see if he can draw some information out of Percival. “Harry says you’re an agent too?”

Percival just nods. Right. It’ll be harder than Eggsy previously thought. Though, he supposes, if you’re gonna be a part of a secret agency, you gotta be somewhat good at keeping secrets. 

Eggsy nods back. Perhaps Percival is communicating in a kind of morse code. He’s about three seconds away from pulling up a morse code translator on his computer before deciding that that’s utterly, completely ridiculous, and that he’ll be able to get some answers out of him the old fashioned way - with charm. “Can I ask you some questions?”

Percival shrugs. Eggsy takes that as a cue to begin asking. Might as well dive off on the deep end. 

“Why are you actually here?”

Percival just stares at him. 

“I mean, Harry was talkin’ ‘bout some sort of international emergency,” Eggsy continues. Somehow, having Percival’s glare directed at him is much more intimidating than when it's directed at the window. “And how I was in danger from some bad guys. And how you and your secret agents are-“

Percival knocks his mug onto the floor. Deliberately, and calculated, landing on the one piece of flooring near Eggsy’s desk where the carpet has oh-so-conveniently been pulled up so there’s just bare, exposed concrete there. Which the mug lands on. And ‘lands on’ is quite an ambitious term, given the frankly explosive shatter it displays upon impact. Any train of thought Eggsy might have had is promptly derailed by a loud exclamation of ”SHIT.”

Which is totally justified. 

Eggsy gets the point. Keep the secret agent a secret. But it’s not like anyone in Eggsy’s department (slash office, slash basement) would be listening. The only other people there is Janice, the middle-aged woman who’s probably a stone’s throw from senile, and Rich, who’s rarely in anyway, and when he is, he’s hungover or drunk, or in limbo between the two.

He tears a sheet of paper from his printer and a pen, wondering if Percival will stop him now. Wondering when he’ll push the boundaries too far, whether Percival is actually just a massive introvert or if it really is against company policy to discuss this stuff with him. Which seems like bullshit, given it directly concerns him.

Percival watches him grab the paper but makes no move to stop it. Eggsy scribbles out his question and turns it towards Percival.

_ Why are you here? Harry mentioned international danger or something, but no one’s actually told me what’s going on. Don’t I have a right to know? _

He analyses the paper for nearly five minutes. Eggsy wonders whether he’s reading all of his life’s secrets in the composition of the pen ink, and then Percival picks up the pen.

_ If I could, I’d tell you everything. However, that’s Arthur’s decision. Not mine. And until he rescinds that decision, I’m going to follow his orders. _

_ So you can’t tell me anything? _

_ I can’t tell you anything that directly relates to this situation. _

Eggsy pauses with the pen in his hand, staring at Percival, who looks remarkably blank. Like he’s waiting for Eggsy to figure something out.

_ But you could tell me about things not relating to this situation? _

Eggsy almost misses the small upturn to Percival’s lips when he takes the pen back.

_ As long as it’s not about the situation at hand, then I see no reason why I can’t tell you about it. Especially if you’re going to have to start tolerating us agents more. _

Eggsy grins.

_ Harry told me the basics. About how the agency started, and stuff. How do you get your code names? _

_ We inherit them. Did Arthur mention how it’s all after the knights of the Round Table? We have twelve active field agents: Lancelot, Gawain, Tristan, Bors, Bedivere, Lamorak, Galahad, Kay, Gareth, Geraint, and Gaheris. And me. _

Percival turns the paper so Eggsy can read it before pulling it back again and setting the pen to it.

_ Whenever an agent dies, or retires, or quits, we each have to propose a candidate to fill their place.  _

_ Yeah! Harry mentioned something about recruits? _

_ Yes. Recently we lost Geraint to the line of fire, so we’ve each proposed a candidate for the trials. Whoever wins, will take his place at the table. _

_ What about Arthur or Merlin? _

_ Arthur is appointed by vote. Or sometimes, the previous Arthur will choose someone to be appointed on the occasion of their death. The same thing happens for Merlin’s position, but instead of being chosen from the agents, it’s chosen by the tech departments. Harry and Merlin hold the most powerful positions in the agency. _

_ What about Dagonet? Harry introduced him at the tailor shop. _

_ He’s more from Merlin’s department. He originally started in the engineering dept., but was promoted to his place in the shop. He’s no active agent, but he’s been given a code name since he does come into contact with some of our clients, or our targets. _

_ And I’m not gonna get in trouble for being told all this am I? _

Percival smiles.

_ I hope not, since I’ll lose my job. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be told all of this in due time. _

_ In due time? What does that mean? _

_ I know Merlin’s been considering some extra security measures, _ is all Percival writes, and when Eggsy tries to ask more, he stays frustratingly quiet. Eggsy slumps back in his chair and sighs, waiting for something to happen.

He may have gotten some answers, but he’s just been left with more questions. Percival, if the smile-like grimace is anything to go by, seems to be taking great delight in his frustration. Eggsy’s fucking sick of these secret spy types.

* * *

Daisy’s still awake when he gets to Roxy’s once his shift has ended, and Roxy looks so harried it makes Eggsy nervous.

“Eggsy, thank God you’re here,” Roxy says all in a rush. “Listen, I tried to get Daisy to go to sleep but she just wouldn’t. I don’t know what happened today, everything just seems to have gone wrong.”

Eggsy frowns at her. “It’s alright, Rox, don’t worry. Where is she?”

“In my room. Sulking, I think.”

Eggsy heads straight there, to find Daisy sitting cross legged on the bed, glaring at the window. He sits down next to her, wondering what it is about windows today. “Heya, Daise.”

“Mmph.”

“Roxy said you was being difficult today. That you wouldn’t go to sleep. Wanna give me a hug and tell me why?”

It takes her five minutes to wriggle her way over to curl under his arm. And then another five to start talking. “There was somebody at the window.”

Every single one of Eggsy’s internal alarms start going off at once. “What do you mean somebody at the window?”

“A face! It kept looking at me, dad.”

“A face like a shadow face, or a face like a person face?” Eggsy asks. He tucks a finger under her chin and angles her face towards him, locking eyes. “This is important, Daise, was it an actual person or just something that looked like a face?”

“I- I don’t know,” Daisy says. She starts gnawing on her lip. “It looked like a person face, but I was scared so I didn’t wanna go any closer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know, daddy, I didn’t see it properly,” Daisy sniffs. Eggsy uses his dad-sense and pulls out a tissue before she can start sobbing. 

“Why didn’t you tell Roxy?” Eggsy asks, as she starts crying in earnest, pulling her tighter into him.

“I didn’t wanna bother her!” Daisy cries. “I didn’t- I didn’t wanna get in her way.”

“You’d never get in her way, flower,” Eggsy says. “Especially if something was scaring you. Roxy loves you.”

Daisy sniffs, wiping snot all over Eggsy’s t-shirt. He’s long since grown used to it. “I- I know. But I still didn’t wanna. I was scared.”

“Okay, baby,” Eggsy sniffs with her. “Okay. It’s okay now, yeah? I’m here now.”

“I don’t wanna go home, dad. What if it’s still there?”

Eggsy’s gonna kill Harry. He’s going to have so many stern words with him about this. “We can stay here tonight. I’ll protect you and Rox, yeah? Why don’t we go out there, ‘cause Roxy’s worried too now. And we’ll eat through her fridge, and watch movies all day tomorrow.”

“But it’s school tomorrow.”

Eggsy smiles at her, lifting her into his arms and heading towards the door. “But you have such a high temperature, Daisy. And a terrible headache. And you’re about to projectile vomit all over your poor old dad.”

It makes her giggle, thankfully, and after he’s deposited her in Roxy’s lap on the sofa, he pulls out his phone to tap out a strongly worded text to Harry.

_ I thought u said u were keeping an eye out for me and my family. So tell me why Daisy’s just sobbed because she saw a person outside watching her. If this was one of your fucking agents, Harry, you’re going to regret the goddamn day you were born. All of u are. I’ll tear that fucking agency down if I find out that one of your lot was terrorising my kid and you can take my word for that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so pls let me know what u think! ive loved all the comments ive received thus far - im so glad people are enjoying this!
> 
> just a heads up that whilst im trying to stick to one chapter a week, the next chapter may be a little late as i havent.. actually.. started writing it yet. also, its my birthday today, and the next few days look to be busy for me anyway (as busy as an international lockdown can be). so apologies in advance if the next chapter takes a little while longer to get posted!


	3. byzantium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another visit to kingsmen HQ, some harry-eggsy-daisy time, and they're slowly becoming a family (even if they dont see it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!
> 
> foreword-y part takes a lot of inspiration from the poem [byzantium](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43296/byzantium) by WB Yeats.

_ (The land of the blind. Lampadephoros, the bringer of light, celestial, astral. A walking mummy, hammered gold. All man is, all mere complexities, and all complexities of mire and blood and fury. The mire of human veins. Death in life, and life in death. Spirit after spirit, wait for the dying and lead them to paradise.) _

* * *

_ Eggsy, as soon as I got your message, I set a team to work finding out what might have happened. I can assure you that it wouldn’t have been one of my agents. However, this means that things may be more serious than I have previously let on, and we may have to take extreme measures soon. It would be better to discuss this in person. If I could see you today, that would be best. I’ll come to you. I’m deeply sorry, Eggsy. H. Hart. _

* * *

Harry ends up outside Roxy’s door just seconds after Eggsy actually read his message. He’d already called into Daisy’s school to say she wasn’t going in today, and had started to pull Roxy’s DVD cases out of her cupboards (‘No one even uses DVDs anymore, Rox.’ ‘Streaming services are despicable, Eggsy,’). He wasn’t even aware that Harry knew where Roxy lived; but then again, spy. It shouldn’t be surprising.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry looks genuinely confused as to why Eggsy asked that. “What do you mean? I did text you.”

“I know you texted me,” Eggsy says. “I didn’t know you knew where Roxy lived. Why didn’t you tell me you knew where Roxy lived?”

“I thought it would scare you,” Harry says. “But if it makes you feel better, we’ve done extensive background checks on everyone you’ve ever been in contact with.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Eggsy says. He steps aside to let Harry in. Daisy’s picking her way through Roxy’s DVDs, creating a pile of the ones she wants to watch. She looks up when Harry steps into the living room, frowning in recognition.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and Eggsy is proud to note that she uses almost the exact same inflections that he did.

“I’m here to talk to your dad,” Harry says. He scans over the DVDs on the floor. “Are you watching some films?”

“We’re havin’ a movie day,” Daisy says. 

Harry’s face softens. “How wonderful. Would you mind terribly if I steal your father away for a few minutes, first?”

Eggsy’s struck by how different Harry already seems around them. The first time they had met - well, sort of - he had seemed so dismissive of them both. The second time, he had seemed confused and professional… now, Eggsy’s shocked by how well he fits in with them.

It’s, well. It’s sorta weird. But sorta nice, too.

“We won’t be long, Daise,” Eggsy says. “Just to talk about what you saw last night, yeah? You pick some movies and put them on while you wait.”

“You mean about the man?” Daisy says. She perks up, almost, like talking about it now, in daylight, is exciting. “The man in the window?”

“Yeah, flower,” Eggsy sighs. “About the man in the window.”

Harry’s forehead creases slightly. He crouches down to kneel beside Daisy. “Why don’t you tell me about what you saw? If that’s alright.”

Eggsy shrugs, sinking into Roxy’s couch. Daisy was the one who saw it, so she should choose if she tells Harry.

“Sure,” she says, dropping the DVDs she’s holding. “I was about to go to bed, in Roxy’s bed. She has the coolest bed sheets, they’ve got unicorns and sequins on.”

“Wouldn’t sequins be uncomfortable to sleep on?” Harry asks.

Daisy looks at him like he doesn’t know anything at all. “The sequins are at the sides, silly. You don’t actually lie on them, that’d be stupid.”

“Of course,” Harry says. “How silly of me.”

“Anyway,” Daisy continues. “She said goodnight and I laid down and was just closing my eyes when I saw it. The man. He was looking through the window, staring at me.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Harry asks.

Daisy shakes her head, biting her lip. “I don’t think so. He just kept looking! It was so creepy.”

“And you didn’t go to Roxy?”

“No,” Daisy says. “I’m ten! I’m a big girl.”

Harry nods. “Quite right. Ten is a very big girl,” he says. “However, you’re still allowed to be afraid. Do you know how old I am?”

Daisy frowns at him. “Why would I know that?”

“I’m forty seven,” Harry says. Daisy looks horrified. “And do you know? I still get scared a lot. And I have to get my friends to help me.”

“What do you get scared of?” Daisy asks, like she couldn’t picture Harry being afraid of anything.

“Oh, lots of things,” Harry says. “Sharks, snakes. Spiders. In fact, I have a friend who is positively petrified of anteaters.”

It makes her giggle. “My dad’s not scared of nothin’,” Daisy says, like she’s puffing her chest out. “Maybe your friend could get some help from him.”

“I’m sure your dad is extremely brave,” Harry says. “Now, is there anything else you could tell me about this man?”

Daisy pushes her lips together. “He had a face. But it was night time, so I couldn’t see it very well. He had brown hair, I think. And he was wearing glasses.”

“That’s very helpful, Daisy, thank you,” Harry tells her. “Do you think if I could show you a few pictures, you’d be able to recognise him?”

Daisy nods. Eggsy leans forward, “Now hold on a minute. What sorta pictures?”

“They’re nothing special, Eggsy, you needn’t worry. Photos of a few suspects, mugshots or passport photos, that sort of thing,” Harry says, like that’ll make Eggsy worry less. 

“Can I see them too?” He asks, sliding down off the sofa to sit on the floor next to Daisy. He’s seriously fighting the urge to scoop her up and squash her in his arms, wrap her in cotton wool and bubble wrap and hide her away from the world till this all blows over. 

Harry nods. “Of course you can,” he reaches into his jacket to pull out a packet. When his blazer moves, Eggsy can see the strap of a holster. It sends a cold spark down his back, a reminder that while this feels like a camera crew should be jumping out at any second to shout ‘it’s a prank!’, it’s actually happening. “Now, I have six photos here. It might be none of them, so don’t feel discouraged. I need you to be as honest as you possibly can, okay?”

“Okay,” Daisy says. She shuffles slightly closer to Eggsy, almost on instinct. 

Eggsy feels stupidly guilty. She’s just a kid - his kid. She shouldn’t have to deal with this shit. All because of his dad, and Harry, and whatever stupid thing they’ve gotten tangled into now. 

Harry pulls out the first photo, an A5 sheet with a rough looking guy printed on it. Obviously, it’s a prison mugshot, and something cold and heavy settles in Eggsy’s stomach. “Did the man you saw look anything like this?”

Daisy frowns, studying the image, before shaking her head. Harry moves on to the next one, of a well dressed man in what looks like a photo for a passport or driving license. Daisy shakes her head again. 

She stays on the third photo for a long time. Harry holds it up for her with the patience of a saint, whilst Eggsy shuffles about on his knees. The silence is making him antsy, and he feels like the eyes in the pictures are following him.

The fourth photo gets a reaction out of her. Daisy makes a whimpery sort of gasp.

Eggsy studies the photo. It’s of a man, presumably from an upper class family, if his stature is anything to go by, but his appearance is, well, raggedy. There’s a sort of feral look in his eyes, the sort of look that Eggsy would go out of his way to avoid.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “You have to be sure about this, Daisy. It’s very important.”

Daisy nods. She’s biting her lip again, harder this time. It’s one of her tells, Eggsy knows, where she’s trying very hard not to show that she wants to cry, so he wraps an arm around her tightly. “I’m sure. He looked like that.”

Harry sighs. “Alright.” He scratches behind his ear and packs the photos back up. “Is there a room I could use to speak with a colleague, please? I’m sure you understand, it’s confidential.”

“Uh- sure,” Eggsy says. “Roxy’s room and the guest room are down the hall, if you wanna go in there. I’m going to put a movie on, so don’t worry about us over-hearing.”

“Thank you, Eggsy,” Harry says. “I won’t be long.”

Eggsy watches him leave, before dropping his forehead onto Daisy’s head. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t realise he was gonna wanna ask you some stuff too.”

Daisy leans back into him, somewhat shedding her ‘dad, you’re embarrassing me’ persona. “It’s okay, dad. What does he even do?”

“He’s a… police officer, of sorts. He worked with my dad,” Eggsy says. “But he’ll keep us safe. Now. Did you choose which movie you wanted to watch first?”

Daisy nods. She picks up the disc case for both  _ Brave  _ and  _ Hercules _ . “These two. You choose.”

Eggsy takes  _ Brave _ and slots it into the DVD player. Daisy snuggles closer to him, and he tries not to think about Harry in the other room, probably discussing his fate right at this minute.

* * *

“Elias Sallow,” is what Harry says as soon as Merlin picks up.

“Shit.”

“Yes,” Harry says. “Shit.”

“So what are you going to do?” Merlin asks. “I don’t know if we have the resources to do it all, Harry. You know that.”

“I know,” Harry says. “But I can’t just leave them, especially when Sallow might be involved. I would do anything to protect Eggsy - we owe him, and Lee, that much.”

Merlin sighs. He sounds in desperate need of a particularly strong coffee. “I know. I agree with you on that. But short of assigning yourself to it, I don’t know what we can do.”

“Then I’ll assign myself to it.”

“You can’t do that,” Merlin says. “You’re Arthur, Harry. You can’t just take on these sorts of missions.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Harry snaps, trying desperately hard not to yell.

“I think you should bring him back into HQ,” Merlin says, after a heavy pause. “His girl, too. And his friend. Anyone who he’s close with. They’re all in danger if Sallow’s involved.”

Harry grits his teeth. “And what then?”

“We’ll have a meeting. All the knights, the heads of departments. Anyone with a shred of authority. This’ll involve everyone if it gets bad, and we have to stop it getting bad. Cut it off at the neck.”

“Cut one off, and two will grow in its place,” Harry says. “But fine. I’ll bring Eggsy, Daisy, and Roxy in tomorrow. Get everyone rallied. Ten o’clock. And, if you could, get someone to post outside of Roxy’s workplace, too. And maybe a camera on Eggsy’s home. I’ll stay here with him for now.”

“What about overnight?” Merlin asks.

“I’ll talk to him. I’ll let you know,” Harry says. “Christ. Sometimes I wonder if we made a mistake by doing what Lee asked of us.”

“Hardly,” Merlin says. “I doubt Eggsy would have gotten to where he is if we hadn’t been there. The boy’s had more attempts on his life than the bloody Queen Victoria at this point.”

Harry laughs, but it’s hardly a joke. It’s more a laugh to keep from crying. “I hate to think of what could have happened.”

“Would you ever tell him of that?” Merlin asks, after a beat. “That people have tried to kill him before?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says. “I’m afraid it may make him feel more indebted to us. And I’m not sure I would like being told that people have made an attempt to kill me, so I don’t think he would either.”

“No,” Merlin agrees. “But it might be important for him to know. I’d rather we tell him things like that outright rather than he finds it out in an unsavoury way.”

“You may have a point.”

“Of course I have a point, Harry,” Merlin says. “Just think about it. I have agents to supervise, and you have things to do, as well.”

“Things to do…?”

“Eggsy’s waiting for you, isn’t he?”

“What on earth are you trying to imply, Merlin?”

“Nothing at all, you suspicious bastard,” Merlin says. “Just keep your glasses on, alright?” And Harry can almost see the damned twinkle in his eye as he says it.

* * *

The rest of the day passes in a blur of movies and burnt popcorn. Harry is a steady constant in the corner of the room, tapping away at a laptop or making smart remarks about the films that only Eggsy catches. He’d be almost suspicious of Harry’s presence if he didn’t enjoy it so, and by the time Roxy gets home, he’s almost forgotten this morning.

Her eyes narrow once she sees him. “Hello, Eggsy, Daisy, and person I don’t know.”

“Rox, this is Harry,” Eggsy says from where he’s sprawled on the couch. Daisy’s sitting on his stomach, playing something on his phone. “You know, the-”

“The stalker?” Roxy says. “Yeah, I know. What’s he doing in my flat?”

“Well, after what Daisy saw last night, I texted him and he came by earlier. Been here ever since,” Eggsy says. “He’s keepin’ us safe.”

“Is my flat in danger, then?”

“Not exactly,” Harry says. “It’s just safer for all of you if I or a member of my team are with you until we can identify how to move forward with this.”

“Well, you’d better get on with identifying it, then,” Roxy says. “I’m not having you all sleep here.”

“I assure you we’re working on it,” Harry says. “It would actually be safer for all of you if you stayed at my house tonight. And then we’re planning on a meeting tomorrow, which you’re welcome to attend, to discuss a plan of action.”

“What, all of us at your house?” Eggsy says. “Isn’t that a bit… excessive?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Harry says, “That’s what I always say.”

“Well, sure, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” Eggsy says. Harry’s face looks uncomfortably blank.

“It really would be best if you all stayed with me,” Harry says. “We’ll compensate you for any income you may miss from your job, of course. I’m just trying to keep your safety as a priority.”

“Seriously?” Roxy says.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it were a necessary step to take,” Harry says. “Just until tomorrow. I’d hate to risk anything happening to any of you.”

Eggsy watches Roxy glance towards Daisy, knowing that that’s where his thoughts first went too. “Fine,” she says. “As long as Eggsy’s okay with it.”

Eggsy shrugs. “I’d rather not get killed in the middle of the night, so yeah. Sure. Until tomorrow?”

“Until tomorrow,” Harry repeats, and Eggsy finds that he trusts him inexplicably.

* * *

Harry’s house is actually really fucking nice. Hidden away in such an uppity kind of neighbourhood that Eggsy feels like the odd one out, it looks like straight out of a magazine spread.

Much like the rest of Harry’s things. Out of magazines, and photoshoots. Unlived in, impersonal. Almost fake. They’re beautiful in an icy sort of way, elegant and homey but obviously intended to be that way.

The only personalised items Eggsy can see are the glass cases of dead butterflies (which are awful) and the… the taxidermied dog in the fucking bathroom. Which is all kinds of weird. 

Besides the weird stuff, Harry has all kinds of antiquities, dusty glass cases of china tea cups and creaky leather sofas and a dining table “from the eighteen hundreds.” It doesn’t quite fit into the idea that Eggsy’s acquired of Harry, like a circle in a square hole, but it feels like it should fit. 

Roxy and Daisy are taking great joy in rifling through Harry’s rooms, which, thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to mind. Eggsy just hopes he doesn’t keep his guns on display. Instead, he puts the kettle on, and Eggsy follows his directions to the stash of takeaway menus in the utility closet, and then they sit together at the kitchen table, with the tea in a proper teapot and a pot of sugar with one of the fancy little sugar spoons.

Eggsy scoops up a mound of sugar and tips it back into the bowl, watching it fall like snow. “Are we really in that much danger?”

Harry stirs his tea once more. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“All we have to go on is one man who might be involved,” Harry says. “Albeit, a very dangerous man. But until we know his intentions, and who else he has on his side, we can’t be certain. Of course, we can guess, and we shall continue to make our best guesses. But until we know more, we don’t have much to go off of.”

“So this really is just a precaution?” Eggsy asks.

“Like I said,” Harry looks at him, eyes piercing. “Your safety is my priority.”

Eggsy feels his stomach flip flop. “Right.”

“I truly mean that,” Harry says. “Eggsy, you are…”

“Harry…”

There’s a crash from upstairs, and then hushed giggling. Harry blinks and inhales, and the moment is broken.

“I’d better go and see what that was,” Harry says, almost reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Eggsy says, watching him put the teacup down and head up the stairs. “Sure.”

* * *

Eggsy wakes up to the sun streaming through the blinds, lighting up the room with a soft, pleasant glow. He doesn’t get that at his house. In fact, it usually rains at his house. The light is warm, and golden, and seems as sleepy as he is, stretching like a cat under his gaze.

Daisy had decided she wanted to sleep in the same room as Roxy last night, so Eggsy had been free from her sleepless whisperings. He hopes, at least, that they both managed to get some sort of rest. Harry had directed them to a room, and then shown Eggsy to his second guest room (who the hell needs two guest rooms? Who ever has that many guests?), and said good night like the words belonged to him.

Eggsy still feels like he’s falling, even the morning after.

He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and sits up, the duvet pooling around his waist. Even for all that’s plaguing his mind at the moment, he slept exceedingly well, and almost feels guilty for it. Something about Harry’s house just makes him feel… safe.

He breathes for a minute, letting the air swell within his chest and listens to the lives being lived outside of the window. There are birds singing, and traffic, and the siren of an ambulance. The cacophony is comforting, and welcome company, and when Eggsy directs his focus to the sounds inside the house, he can hear Daisy whispering nonsense to Roxy across the hall, and Harry puttering about downstairs, and the kettle boiling.

He slides out of the bed and pulls on the hoodie he wore yesterday, and then messing around with his hair until he won’t be too embarrassed to confront Harry with it. Eggsy also ignores the logic that tells him Harry’s probably seen him with worse than bed hair - and God, if that isn’t weird.

He sits back down with a heavy exhale.

It’s weird, he thinks, how quickly things have settled. Sure, he’s still being probably stalked by an international criminal, and putting everyone he’s ever been in contact with at risk, and finding out that his deceased father worked as a spy, and now he’s fallen a bit in love with the guy who’s been stalking him forever. But it feels normal.

Hah.

Normal.

Roxy would tell him something like: “Sure, this sucks  _ now.  _ But you’ve just got to adjust. And you know, Asda round the corner has a sale on beer, so I’ll give you a tenner and then we can watch Casualty reruns.”

So he stands back up. And listens to Harry start up a coffee machine. And then he steels his nerves - and what does he even have to be nervous about? - and he goes downstairs.

* * *

Harry wakes up early, as per usual. He checks to make sure the gun hidden in his bedside table is still loaded, just in case. Then he picks up his tablet and skims through the security footage from the night, and sends any unusual occurrences to Merlin (however, the most unusual thing in his neighbourhood is the ginger tomcat from two doors down starts getting it on with a moggy). Afterwards, he dresses in his morning clothes - usually, a soft jumper and slacks - and then sets off down the stairs to start on breakfast.

Today, however, he pauses to listen to Daisy whisper in the bedroom. He also admires the way the sun shines through the frosted glass in the bathroom, making watery patterns on the carpet. And then Harry continues on to start the kettle boiling.

Eggsy slinks his way into the kitchen at about half past. Harry, with his battle worn habits, looks up as soon as he steps into the room, and he’s pleased to see that Eggsy looks well-rested and comfortable.

“How did you sleep?” Harry asks. “The kettle is freshly boiled, if you want tea.”

“Cheers,” Eggsy says, picking a mug up off of the shelf in Harry’s kitchen and locating the tea bags like he always knew where they were. It’s so wonderfully, painfully, beautifully, domestic. “I slept fine. Swear down that your pillows are made of fucking clouds.”

Harry laughs. “Thank you. I don’t suppose the girls are up yet?”

Eggsy shakes his head, managing to somehow coordinate it with pouring his tea. “Don’t think so. Well, Daisy was chatting when I walked past, but I don’t think they’ll be up for breakfast any time soon.”

“No matter,” Harry says. “I’m afraid I don’t tend to have guests, so the only breakfast foods I have are toast and oats. And a meager supply at that.”

“No probs,” Eggsy says. “Roxy doesn’t eat until she’s had at least two cups of coffee, and Daisy’ll be fine with toast as long as you have peanut butter.”

“Luckily, that I can provide,” Harry says. He pulls out a chair at the table, and Eggsy follows, in a vague memory of the night before. “If it’s alright, I’d like to take the three of you to Kingsman HQ today.”

“The three of us?”

Harry nods. “After yesterday, I spoke with Merlin. He suggested we hold a meeting, to discuss with you about what actions we could take and what you would be comfortable with.”

“Why does Roxy and Daisy need to come, though?”

“Since you spend so much time with the both of them, it’s likely that whoever is after you, is also aware of them,” Harry says. “And it’d be much easier to just keep the three of you together, rather than sending separate agents after you all.”

“Sure,” Eggsy says. “But I don’t really want Daisy to be at the HQ. Right? I trust her, but I don’t trust the place. And I don’t really want her to be around all of the guns and shit.”

“All of our weapons are appropriately locked and protected-”

“Still,” Eggsy says. “If there’s someone who could just look after her while we have this meeting.”

Harry sips his coffee, wondering if he ought to add another shot just in case. “Of course. I’ll arrange something for her. We can discuss this sort of thing in the meeting, as well.”

Eggsy frowns. “Why would this need to be discussed in the meeting? You’re the boss, ain’t you? Surely it’s a simple decision.”

“It is for today,” Harry says. “However, depending on what we decide to do about this situation, you may end up living on-site for a while, or with one of our agents. In which case, we would have to outline several rules, and plans.”

“Oh,” Eggsy says. “Sure.” He takes a big enough gulp of tea that Harry can hear him swallow it. “Do you really think we might have to live at the HQ for a bit?”

“It’s not my preferred option,” Harry says, because really, it’s not. He’d much rather have Eggsy stay at his house with him, where he can be sure of his safety and he’d get to keep him close. “But if needs must. I’m prepared to do anything to keep you and your family safe.”

“So you keep saying,” Eggsy hums. “But I’ve never actually been in that much danger before, have I?”

It’s the perfect opening to tell Eggsy everything, Harry thinks, and maybe he’ll regret not bringing it up now. But he can’t quite bring himself to. The sun is too bright, the birds are too loud, and the sky too blue. Another time, Harry promises himself, because he thinks Eggsy has had enough of the secrets, but he does want to let him enjoy a clear morning for once.

“That’s why we’re here,” Harry says in reply. Eggsy seems to be half asleep enough not to question it, simply quirking an eyebrow and swallowing another mouthful of tea.

Harry feels like he’s just defused a bomb, only to step onto a landmine.

* * *

The Kingsman HQ is much the same as when Eggsy last visited. He fares slightly better on the shuttle ride over (Roxy, the lucky bastard, seems completely unaffected by it, and doesn’t hesitate to lord it over him). The only difference, really, is the heightened sense of urgency permeating the grounds.

Daisy, in some twist of fate, is absolutely revelling in it. Several of the office personnel invite her to their desks for cans of drink and sweets and notebooks, and she basks in the attention. Eggsy lets her go, if only because he knows that Harry would say something if she were in danger. And, truly, he doubts the pudgy old lady in red, cat eye glasses presents a life threatening threat to her.

Harry himself almost seems to stiffen as soon as they cross over onto the Kingsmen grounds. Eggsy can watch his energy whip itself into shape in real time, watching him become Arthur, not just Harry. He also seems to thrive off of the energy across the HQ, and the sense of emergency looks like it revitalises him.

It only serves to make Eggsy more nauseous. But if it helps Harry get his job done…

“Good morning, Arthur, sir,” announces Percival, the first knight they run into. He’s accompanied by two others whom Eggsy doesn’t recognise, but one looks distinctly younger. “Eggsy, it’s good to see you.”

Eggsy nods to Percival. “Yeah. You too.”

“Merlin asked to see you in the recruits' dorms,” Percival then says, to Harry. “He said it’s urgent.”

Harry frowns. “The dorms? What on Earth does he want me there for? Surely he can wrangle some teenagers on his own.”

The younger member of Percival’s companions speaks up. “Arthur, sir. I think a fight broke out. Last I heard, Merlin was requesting back-up.”

Harry turns to look at the girl. Eggsy assumes she must be one of those recruits, given how young and inexperienced she seems, and how terrified she looks when Harry meets her eye. “Thank you, …?”

“Alys, sir,” she says. “Alys Palmer.”

“Thank you, Alys,” Harry says. “I’d best go and see what he wants then. Perhaps you and Percival could look after my companions for me?”

“Fuck that, mate, I’m comin’ with you,” Eggsy says.

“I’ll stay with Daisy,” Roxy volunteers. “She’s got her fanclub with the office ladies, after all.”

Harry sighs. “Alright. Percival, if you could accompany Roxy and Daisy until I’m finished with Merlin?”

“Yes, sir,” Percival salutes, grinning. He turns to head off, and Alys and the other agent follow. Roxy waves goodbye to Eggsy before heading with them too.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard Percival talk at once,” Eggsy says, once Harry and he are left standing in the corridor.

“He’s a man of few words,” Harry says. “Usually. Right, this way, then. I suppose I did say I could introduce you to the recruits last time, didn’t I? However, I’d hoped it wouldn’t be in the middle of a brawl.”

Eggsy shrugs. “Nothing I ain’t seen before.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry says. “Come along, then. Before Merlin sends some homicidal drones to chase us there.”

“Would he do that?” Eggsy asks, as Harry begins to walk down the hall. He hurries to catch up. “He wouldn’t, would he?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Harry says darkly, which is suspicious and terrifying, so Eggsy doesn’t dwell on it.

“Christ.”

Harry glances at him, a small smile playing about his lips. Eggsy tries extremely hard to ignore it, and the butterflies it sets loose in his stomach. “Yes, quite.”

It’s funny how just two words can make his head and heart feel dizzy.

* * *

Merlin looks certifiably frazzled by the time they reach the recruits’ dormitories. He’s standing outside the door, clutching a tablet like he’s expecting to be ambushed any second.

“Merlin?”

“Harry, took you long enough,” Merlin snaps. “And you brought Eggsy, too. Wonderful.”

“I heard that,” Eggsy says.

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, both of them ignoring Eggsy. Which is just fine. It’s not like he survives on Harry’s attention or anything.

Instead, he directs his focus to analysing the surroundings. Stark grey-white walls, metal doors with heavy locks. It looks more like a prison than a spy Headquarters, but it miraculously still retains the antique, homely feel. There’s a desk at the very end of the corridor, with a pitcher of water and a coffee machine on, as well as a pin board with what looks like a colour coded schedule.

“Hemming started a brawl,” Merlin says. “With Flanders, Thompson, and Brown. Brown and Thompson are in the infirmary being treated for broken bones, among other things. At the moment, I’ve confined Hemming and Flanders to isolation rooms, given they were the instigators.”

“Why would they be fighting?” Harry asks. “There’s no reason for them to have beef, surely.”

Merlin shrugs. “I’ve no idea. I spoke with Brookes, she said she thought it might have something to do with jealousy. I have no idea how the brains of the modern youths work.”

“So it seems like you have it sorted,” Harry says.

“Hardly. Your authority is required, Harry,” Merlin says. “For discipline?”

Harry sighs. “Well, if I had known that that was all you wanted me for, then I would have dawdled more on the way here.”

“It’s a two minute walk, how much longer could you have dawdled?” Merlin asks. “You were already five minutes later than I expected you to be.”

“Pardon me for taking a few moments to show our guest around,” Harry says. Both of their gazes snap to Eggsy.

He holds his hands up guiltily. “Hey, don’t look at me. Can’t help that I’ve never been in a spy HQ before. I’m gonna have questions.”

“You were here the other day,” Merlin says.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to see this much the other day, did I? I don’t know jackshit about what goes on here!” Eggsy says. “It’s interesting, bruv, I wanna know about all of it.”

“Without the proper security clearance, we can’t tell you anything,” Merlin says, matter-of-factly.

“And I,” Harry says, to the tune of an incredibly long suffering sigh from Merlin. “Would hardly be a good boss if I didn’t bend the rules occasionally.”

“That’s a threat to national and international security,” Merlin says. He says it with perfect inflection, like he’s said it a gajillion times before to Harry. Or maybe he just practises it in his bathroom mirror, alone, till he knows exactly how to say it properly.

Eggsy couldn’t judge. He hardly knows the guy. And it would be hypocritical to criticise the same thing he often does as well.

Harry replies to Merlin’s statement with such a withering glare that he must have practiced. “Tripping on a stair could also be a threat to international security,” he says. “I’m hurt that you think I couldn’t be subtle about anything.”

“Well, you don’t exactly have the best track record with subtlety,” Merlin says. Eggsy tries desperately hard not to snicker under his breath. He holds up five fingers and starts counting off. “June, 1989, Ukraine. You escaped a recon mission by blowing up three hotels and landing two aristocrats in hospital. February, 1991, New York. You failed to return with the appropriate information resources because you had sex with the guy who owned them, and then watched as he set them on fucking fire. December, 1997, New Zealand. In an attempt to protect the actual Prime Minister, you nearly set off an atomic bomb because your handler at the time told you to make a  _ subtle escape  _ and you thought it would make a good cover!”

Harry looks vaguely affronted. “Well, it would have been a good cover. But you’ve made your point, Merlin. Now, if you’re quite finished…?”

Merlin nods, straightening up. “I’ve isolated the security footage. As far as I can tell, Hemming thought Brown was making a move on Thompson, and thought that a fracture would be a good way to stake his claim. They’re like dogs pissing on their territory.”

Harry makes a face. “What a lovely image. Could we get Hemming and Flanders back, please?”

* * *

It’s brilliant, Eggsy thinks. Watching Harry tell some of the recruits off. He’s stupid good at it, not shouting but managing to make his voice deafeningly loud anyway. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Harry snaps. “When Merlin called me down here because our recruits were behaving like children. Jealous, immature, children. This is a waste of my time. If you can’t conduct yourselves respectfully, then you have no place as a Kingsman.”

“Sir!” Hemming (Eggsy thinks, they all look the same - bulky, rich, and pretentious). “You can’t do that! We’re only human, we’re going to have these urges sometimes.”

“And a gentleman should learn how to control them,” Harry says sharply. “I, for example, have the urge to strangle you right now. But look at that, I’m still standing here with my hands by my side. I’d recommend that you follow my example. It’ll certainly help you in your future endeavours.”

“Future endeavours…?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “Merlin, if you could get someone to escort Hemming and Flanders off of the premises. I’m afraid that Kingsmen do not make a habit of employing immature, reckless idiots to uphold international security.”

Eggsy feels all wobbly down to his toes.

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin says. He starts to tap on his tablet. “And I’d like to remind you both that we will be keeping tabs on you, and any mention of Kingsmen will result in you and your families extermination. We can never be too careful, I’m sure gentlemen like you can understand that.”

Flanders glares at Merlin. “You’re lucky you’re not dead where you stand, old man.”

Harry sighs. “Were you not listening to a word I said? Step forward, Flanders.”

He does, turning his glare on Harry instead. “What? Do you think you could take me?”

Harry steps forward until they’re toe to toe, staring down at Flanders in silence. He lasts all but twenty seconds before Flanders falls back, and by then, Harry slams a fist into his nose.

“Oh, shit!”

“I hope you’ve all learnt your lessons now,” Harry says, with barely a hair out of place. “If I hear of an incident ever happening like this again, you’ll all be out on your arses. As I said, Kingsmen has standards and we expect our agents to uphold them. If anyone would like a list of the beliefs we hold, I’m sure Merlin or I could arrange that for you.”

There’s a vague smattering of, “yes, sirs,” and Merlin says: “Dismissed.” Then Harry has a hand on the small of Eggsy’s back and is leading him out of the dormitories, and Jesus, it’s like fuel for the butterflies in his stomach.

The door closes with a soft  _ shnick _ , and then Harry looks awfully apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Eggsy. You shouldn’t have had to see that. I couldn’t imagine what you think of me now.”

Eggsy looks at him. “Just part of the job, innit? I’ve seen Roxy yelling at her students; you’ve got nothing on her, mate.”

Harry laughs. “Perhaps she could give me some tips. I’m afraid my responsibilities as Arthur are a bit beyond me sometimes.”

“I think you did alright,” Eggsy shrugs. “Can’t believe they put someone in hospital because they were jealous.”

“Yes, well,” Harry hums. He guides Eggsy around a corner. “In an environment like this, it can be quite hard not to be overly competitive. Jealousy is surely a side effect of that. However, I expect that those boys would have been dropped soon enough, anyway. Their test scores leave a lot to be desired.”

“Dumb, young, and territorial,” Eggsy says. “The perfect traits.”

Harry makes such a disgusted face that Eggsy can’t help his snort. “Not for Kingsmen, I’d say. Perhaps for Oxford, instead. We ought to collect Roxy and begin this meeting, now that my authoritarian responsibilities are out of the way for now.”

Eggsy chuckles. “Hopefully there ain’t no world domination order about to act, then.”

“I should hope not,” Harry says. He holds up his right hand, crossing his middle and index finger. “But let’s not tempt fate. One can never be too careful.”

Eggsy copies him, crossing his fingers and tapping their hands together. “‘Course not. Wouldn’t wanna give Lady Fate any more reason to ruin our lives, huh?”

“Rightly so,” Harry says. “World domination is no joke in this line of work.”

Eggsy laughs. The butterflies in his stomach stir, and Harry holds open a door for him.

Roxy was right. He’s so completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly dont really know how i feel about this chapter, so pls let me know what u think.
> 
> also: early update! i finished it sooner than i thought i would so, here we are.
> 
> hope everyone had a good week! stay safe <3


	4. maya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry it took so long to post this. hope u enjoy it..
> 
> [songs of Dzitbalché](http://www.red-coral.net/Dzit.html)

_(Of the earth. Sophisticated, astronomical. Shimmering beauty; the day of happiness has arrived. Glorious, you will be seen. Receive the flower, the flower of maidens. Love and spirituality, philosophical, ritualistic. The most alluring moon, suspended in the centre. Much evil passes here, yet my soul shall transcend. The dances of the ancient, and the songs of Dzitbalché.)_

* * *

Turns out that when they get to the meeting room (after Harry has thoroughly lost Eggsy in this rabbit hole of corridors), that Roxy and the rest of the knights are already there.

“Oh,” Harry says, like it was a complete surprise and he didn’t make them late on purpose. “Are we late?”

“Very funny,” says Merlin. He sets a clipboard, a laptop, a tablet, a second tablet, and a laser pointer down on the table. “Are we ready to begin?”

Roxy grins at Eggsy from where she’s sitting next to several of the agents (both of whom Eggsy doesn’t recognise), and waves at him. She mouths, ‘What the fuck?!’ to him, and all Eggsy can do is shrug.

Harry takes his seat at the head of the table, prompting Eggsy to sit at his right hand side. He sits, trying not to feel everyone’s eyes on him. “Now,” Harry says. “We’re here today to discuss a matter of safety and security with Eggsy and his associates, who I’m sure you will recognise from the last time we all met.”

There’s a smattering of affirmative responses, and Percival nods at Eggsy.

“Good,” Harry continues. “The young lady we have joining us today is Eggsy’s friend, Roxy Morton. His daughter, Daisy, is also here, however it was decided it would be better for her to sit out of this meeting. Right, then, Merlin?”

Merlin stands, picking up one of the tablets. “We have reason to believe that the person who may be targeting Eggsy and his family is Elias Sallow.” A screen hanging on the wall flickers on with the same photo of a mugshot that Harry had shown Daisy. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all that this is an incredibly dangerous individual.”

“Yeah,” says one of the agents (Gawain? Maybe?), “you can tell by the murderous intent in his eyes.”

Merlin sighs. “Yes, alright, Gawain. Some of you may already know that Lee Unwin, Eggsy’s father, used to work with us. It was his wish that we protect Eggsy and his family for him, and since his death, we have been providing undetected security for Eggsy. Until now.”

“How did he actually find out?” one of the agents asks.

Eggsy looks to Harry. His cheeks flush.

“I’m afraid that would be my fault,” Harry says. “Eggsy’s daughter tripped onto me. And here we are.”

“That’s not quite what happened,” Eggsy says. “There was lots of stuff in between that, Harry.”

“The past is in the past,” Harry says. “Merlin, if you could continue?”

Merlin chuckles. “Yes. Eggsy is, as far as we’re aware, being pursued by Sallow and other members of his organisation. As such, we’ve decided to up the levels of security. As you all should know, Kingsmen agents should pride themselves on protecting the citizens of this country, and this is no exception. We’d like some input from all of you on the course of action you would recommend for Eggsy’s continued protection.”

There’s a moment of silence before Gawain speaks up. “Surely someone should be with him and Roxy at all times.”

“What if we don’t have enough agents to accompany them both?” Merlin says. “In an ideal situation, we’d assign two agents to each of them, which would spread resources for other missions dangerously thin. What would you suggest then?”

“We get them both in some self defence workshops,” Galahad says. “Supply them appropriate, last resort weapons. And a panic button, or something.”

“A panic button?” Another agent scoffs. She has long blonde hair, and looks far more battle-worn and weary than some of the others. “That’s ridiculous, Galahad. Wouldn’t it be safer to supply them with rooms here, at HQ, and have them stay here until the threat is neutralised? We can assign cameras to each of their previous living places, to ensure that they remain protected, but it’d be far safer to have them both actually live here for a bit. Then, the whole agency will be able to keep an eye on them, and we already know that Kingsmen is incredibly secure.”

“Good idea, Bors,” Merlin says. “But what if they want to go outside?”

“Then we do what Galahad said,” Bors says. “Get them in some self defence classes, and get them each a gun, or something. If they want to go outside, then they can each take an agent. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“And what if they’re ambushed?” Merlin pushes. “What if the agent assigned to them is overpowered?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Bors says. “But that could happen any time. That would be a risk we’d have to take.”

Merlin looks, Eggsy thinks, proud. “A good suggestion, Bors. Thank you. Any other ideas?”

“What if they just stay at an agents house?”

Merlin grimaces, turning to face the agent who said it. “Kay. Thank you for the suggestion, but do you really think you agents are at home often enough to protect them properly?”

Kay shrugs. “Arthur is. Wasn’t he an agent, first? He’s got all the knowledge and experience. And his house is super secure.”

Merlin looks at Harry. “That’s not an… awful idea. However, I don’t know if we could trust our Arthur to do an adequate job. He’s awfully distracted these days.”

Harry glares at him. 

“I think staying here at the, um, HQ, would be the most productive plan,” Roxy says. “I’d be happy with that. Although, I’d need to do something about my work.”

“That can all be arranged,” Merlin says. “Eggsy, what do you think?”

Eggsy shrugs. “I’m alright with it. So long as I’m with Rox and Daisy, I’m alright.”

“Could I just ask one question, though?” Roxy asks. Merlin gestures for her to continue. “Right. Well, it’s just… Why is this man actually after Eggsy for, anyway?”

“I was wondering when that would come up,” Harry says. “There has been whispers amongst the London underworld that Eggsy may know something about Kingsmen. Given we are an incredibly powerful organisation, any chance to get their hands on information about us is one that criminals are going to take.”

“Then this was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?” Roxy says. “Because now he does know something about Kingsmen. And so do I. Hasn’t that just put us in even more danger, and made your jobs more difficult?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “You’re quite right. However, we wouldn’t have been able to extend the appropriate level of security to protect you both, had we not revealed ourselves to you. This will allow us to protect you both better, whilst also taking your opinions and experiences into account. If either of you have seen, or do see, something suspicious, it would be incredibly helpful for you to let someone here know.”

“Hm,” Roxy says. “I guess that makes sense. Bit of a risk, though, isn’t it?”

“I’m not denying that,” Harry says.

“So what would this man actually do if he got a hold of either of us?” Roxy asks next. “Would he kill us? Like, should I update my will?”

“We can assume that he would torture you until your bodies gave out,” Merlin says, “In an attempt to extract any information about Kingsmen. Which is why we will still be operating on the same levels of discretion. We won’t be able to tell you about active missions or sensitive information, just in case.”

“So he’d kill us,” Roxy says bluntly.

“In a worst case scenario, yes,” Merlin agrees. “We would recommend updating your will as a precaution.”

Roxy looks at him, using the face that Eggsy knows as her ‘pulling blood from a rock’ face, which she usually uses on students who won’t answer a question (or him, when she knows he’s not telling her something).

“Of course,” Merlin continues, exactly as expected, “we’ll be taking all the precautions necessary to prevent that from happening. But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Right then,” Roxy says. “So, how much am I allowed to tell my family? Or my coworkers, or students?”

“We can fabricate a story for you to use-”

“I’m not going to lie to them.”

“Of course not,” Merlin rectifies immediately. Harry laughs next to Eggsy. “We’ll be able to come up with an acceptable solution for you.”

“Good,” Roxy says. She smiles at him. “Thank you.”

“Good lord,” Harry says under his breath. “She’s incredible.”

Eggsy grins over at him. “I know. She’s been like that since we met.”

“Well, make sure you tell that there may be a career opportunity waiting for her at Kingsmen if she ever gets tired of teaching,” Harry says. 

“Hah, no way. I’m not letting you lot turn my Roxy into a spy.”

“Mm, worth a try,” Harry mutters. Then, louder, “Shall we get back on track, then?”

* * *

“Well, that went… well,” Roxy says, as soon as the meeting is adjourned. She seemingly melts in her seat, flopping her head against Eggsy’s shoulder. “Christ. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You and me both,” Eggsy says. Harry had escorted them to the Kingsmen kitchens, and returned Daisy to them before leaving to do ‘official Kingsmen business’. Eggsy isn’t sure how much of it is a lie. “I don’t even remember what was decided.”

“We’re going to stay here for a couple of weeks,” Roxy says. “Then, we’ll reconsider. Maybe stay with Harry, or Merlin for a bit. Hey, do you remember the name of that blonde agent?”

“Which blonde agent?”

“The woman.”

Eggsy frowns at her. “Bors? What about her?”

Roxy glances at her shoes, and blushes. “No reason. Just wondering.”

Eggsy bites back a smile. “Sure, sure. Just wondering. That’s what you always say.”

“Shut up.”

“Dad!”

Daisy comes jogging over, holding a tray piled high with cakes and cookies. “What’s up, Daisy-cakes?” Eggsy asks, reaching out to grab the tray before she can trip over it. “Are these all for you?”

Daisy makes a face. “I guess I can share some with you and Roxy.”

“You’re not eating these all now, that’s for sure,” Eggsy tells her. “We can save some for later. Come on then, sit down if you’re going to eat.”

She squeezes her way between Roxy and him, picking at her pile indecisively. “Where were you this morning?”

“We had to have a meeting,” Roxy explains. “To talk about some things.”

“It was about those photos Harry showed you,” Eggsy says. “About the man in the window? We might have to live somewhere else for a few weeks until they can sort it all out.”

“Why?”

“Just to be safe,” Eggsy says. He doesn’t want to tell her too much, but he doesn’t want to just lie to her. “To make sure we’re all safe.”

“Why? Are we in danger? What about my school, and my friends? Does this mean I don’t have to go to school?” Daisy asks.

“I’m sure we can find a way for you to get your school work,” Roxy says. “Harry’s clever. He’ll figure something out for us.”

“But why do we have to stay here?” Daisy says. She plucks a chocolate chip cookie from her tray and breaks it into thirds, handing Eggsy and Roxy a piece each. 

“Because it’s not safe at home,” Eggsy says. “Listen, Daise, you just have to trust me for this, okay? As soon as I can, I’ll tell you more. But you just have to trust us and listen to what we, or Harry, say. Okay?”

Daisy frowns at him. “You promise you’ll tell me why?”

“I promise.”

“Hm. Okay, then. Do I have to do homework while we’re here, though?”

“You still have to do homework, yes,” Eggsy says. “We won’t be here forever, and you’ll have to keep up with your schoolwork.”

“But who’s going to teach me?”

“Well, I can teach you,” Roxy says. “Maybe we can send someone out for ice cream while we do schoolwork. Is that an alright compromise?”

“The good ice cream?”

“I wouldn’t settle for anything less,” Roxy says. “I’m sure someone from Kingsmen can manage a trip down to East London.”

“They’d better,” Eggsy says. “Come on, then, do either of you fancy exploring around a bit?”

“Are we allowed to do that?” Roxy asks.

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Eggsy says. “You coming, Daisy?”

“Duh.”

“Attagirl. Come on, Rox. Live a little.”

Roxy gives him a look. “Fuck off, Unwin. Lead the way, then.”

* * *

It’s like trying to play James Bond in an actual James Bond set, Eggsy thinks. He leads Daisy and Roxy around like he has any idea where he’s going, bumping into locked doors and men and women in suits. There are cameras mounted everywhere, and doors that need cards to be opened and locks that also need cards to be opened. 

Then he comes across a door that doesn’t need a card to be unlocked, so he opens it. 

It doesn’t seem to set off an alarm, or blow up a volcano somewhere, and it leads to some sort of garden, so Eggsy continues on full steam ahead. Daisy follows eagerly, Roxy less so. 

“What is this?”

“It’s a garden, Rox.”

“Thank you, Eggsy, I can see that. I meant, why is there a huge garden just in the middle of a spy base?” Roxy asks. 

“Why wouldn’t there be?” Eggsy shrugs. Daisy plops herself down in the middle of the grass and starts picking at it. “Maybe they like nature here. Maybe it’s for target practice. Go ask Bors if you’re that curious.”

“Shut up,” Roxy gives him a Look before sitting down next to Daisy and starts to pluck the daisies and dandelions from the lawn, expertly twisting them into a crown for her. 

Eggsy sits next to them. “I’d have thought that people as stuck up as this would never have weeds in their grass.”

“We keep them for the biodiversity,” Harry says from behind him. “And to make sure there are bees flying around. It’s an extra security measure.”

Eggsy turns to look at him. “Fuck off is it an extra security measure.”

“You shouldn’t swear so much, Eggsy,” Harry tells him. “And of course it’s an extra security measure. You wouldn’t believe the amount of enemies I’ve fought who were afraid of a few measly bugs.”

“You’re having me on,” Eggsy accuses. Harry chuckles, sinking down to sit in the grass beside them. 

“Lots of people are allergic to bee stings,” Harry says. “Sometimes, it’s the little things that’ll give you an advantage. So I see you’ve been exploring the land?”

“As much as we can, yeah,” Eggsy says. “All the doors are locked, though, so it’s not like there’s many places for us to go.”

“Ah, yes. I would apologise for that but I’m sure you understand the risk to national security it may pose if we allow you access to anywhere you please,” Harry explains. “But speaking of, I came to give you these.” He pulls at three lanyards from seemingly nowhere, handing them over to Eggsy. “They’re security badges. The lowest security level, since anything above it is classified to our staff, but it should let you go to a few more places within the site.”

“What sort of places?” Roxy asks, reaching over to take one from Eggsy.

“The library, the kitchens, the gymnasium, access to the lobby of the medical wing,” Harry counts off on his fingers. “You can also use them to lock and unlock the doors to your rooms, once they’ve been assigned.”

“Why only access to the lobby of the medical wing?” Eggsy asks.

“We treat a wide range of injuries here, including some very traumatic ones. In the pursuit of privacy and protection, we’ve barred all our hospital rooms unless someone has the correct security pass, which can be adjusted for each inhabitant,” Harry explains, “It helps us protect our employees, and provides a further degree of privacy. If you require anything from the medical staff, the receptionist in the lobby is well equipped to assist you.”

“What if it’s an emergency?” Roxy says. She finishes off the flower crown, and places it atop Daisy’s head.

“You may have noticed the cameras,” Harry says. “They are constantly checked, in case of emergency, wherein the appropriate service will be deployed in time.”

“Huh,” Roxy says. “Cool. So what sort of books do you keep in the library?”

“We have thousands of highly sought after titles,” Harry tells her. “There are a few that are restricted on age basis, or security clearance level, but other than that it’s fully accessible for anyone. I can arrange for someone to show you there if you like.”

Eggsy settles on his elbows, letting the grass tickle his forearms. “Get Bors to do it.”

Roxy flushes, jerking her foot to jam it into his side. “Eggsy!”

Harry just chuckles. “Bors? I’ll see when she’s free. I’m sure she’d be happy to do it.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” Roxy says, all prim and proper like she isn’t blushing a ferocious shade of fire engine red. Eggsy stifles a chuckle.

“There’s also the kennels,” Harry mentions, almost as an afterthought. “Your badges should grant you access to those, as well.”

“Dogs?” Daisy asks, “Do you have dogs here?”

“We do indeed,” Harry says, giving her a smile. “We use them to help in training exercises, but many of our staff have also adopted them, and frequently help out with walks and such. I think they’d be delighted to see you around there, Daisy.”

“Could we get someone to go with her?” Eggsy asks.

“Dad! I’m not a _baby_. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Eggsy sits up, turning to her. “I never said you was. Just it’s dangerous here, and I don't want you getting yourself into trouble.”

Daisy glares at him. “I’m not stupid. I won’t get into trouble. I thought it was supposed to be safe here, anywhere.”

“It is safe-” Eggsy starts to say.

“Then how could I get into trouble here?”

Fucking ten year olds.

“Well,” Eggsy says. “There are lots of… strong, powerful people here. And weapons. And things. And I don’t know any of them yet, and I don’t want you around all of them.”

“I think what your dad is trying to say,” Harry cuts in smoothly, “is that he’s simply worried for you, as all fathers would be, and he would rather have someone look out for you for a bit. Perhaps, once everyone has gotten more used to our arrangement here, we can reconsider this.”

Daisy makes a contemplative sort of face. One of the dandelions on her crown starts to break apart. “I guess so. Fine. But I’m not a child, I’m nearly eleven. You don’t need to treat me like a three year old.”

“I know, Daise,” Eggsy says. “You’re well grown up, but I’m old and silly, so I’m always going to want to look out for you.”

He feels remarkably grateful for Harry now. For all he’s done for him and his little family; maybe it was in an attempt to pay back some sort of debt, or get some good karma, but he can’t deny that he’s still glad for it. No matter how fucked up the circumstances might be. He’s glad he’s met Harry, and that they’re here now, safe, with him.

He can feel Roxy staring at him. Eggsy swallows, swallows all of his thoughts, and tries to re-engage with the conversation. Harry’s telling Daisy a story about something or other, and Roxy’s listening too. Somehow, Harry’s worked his way into their circle effortlessly. Eggsy can’t even bring himself to mind that much.

Roxy nudges him. Her eyes say ‘you okay?’

He nods at her, smiles. The sun is warm, the grass is soft, Harry is there, and sure, maybe there’s a psychopathic maniac after him at the moment, but Eggsy feels… happy.

It’s probably a sign of some kind of underlying psychological problem, he thinks. But he doesn’t spare it much thought - there’s no use, really. He doubts anything could really bring him down right now.

* * *

He must fall asleep, bathed in the warmth of the sun and surrounded by his favourite people, because when he next blinks his eyes open, the sun is more orange and pink than before, Roxy’s gone, and Harry has Daisy dozing on his lap. 

“Eggsy,” he says, soft and gently. “Roxy went to the library. If we get up now, we can make it in time for a meal at the canteen.”

Eggsy inhales and exhales, long and slow. “Mhm. Just… In a few minutes.”

Harry smiles at him. “Of course. Whenever you’re ready.”

The orange bleed from the sun seems to leave fire in its tracks, burning across the planes of Harry’s face and turning his hair a beautiful caramel-y colour. Eggsy thinks that later, once his brain is caught up, he’ll be embarrassed about it. But for now, he can hardly draw his eyes away.

Watching Harry sit with Daisy, it feels like he should be nervous and afraid. But he’s not; in fact, he’s sure Daisy has never been safer. She just looks like she belongs there. Like they belong there.

It’s the sort of thought that Roxy would laugh at, if she knew about it. It’s why he decides to never tell her about it, even if she’d probably agree.

It figures that that’s when an alarm starts blaring somewhere, and Daisy jerks awake. So does Eggsy, his brain suddenly jumping into first gear. Harry snaps to attention, tapping on the arms of his glasses and his watch, whilst simultaneously ushering Daisy up. Eggsy stands, pulling her towards him just to make sure she’s still there.

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“A breach of security,” Harry says. “You have to get inside. You’ll find someone there, waiting for you. They’ll take you to a safe room.”

“What?” Eggsy asks. “How could there be a breach of security? I thought we were safe here!”

“Eggsy, you need to go. I promise, this will all be okay,” Harry says. He sounds like he’s thinking a million things at once. “Please, just go inside.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he can’t help asking.

Harry stops for a second, turning his full attention on Eggsy. Time seems to slow down. His eyes burn brighter than the sun, picking apart every piece of Eggsy, leaving no stone unturned. “Of course I’ll be okay. You just have to go, Eggsy, please.”

Eggsy nods. “Okay,” he takes Daisy’s hand, squeezing. “Okay.”

Something about it feels like a goodbye, even though that’s properly ridiculous. Eggsy tries to tell himself, as he pulls Daisy towards the doors, that everything is going to be okay, that Kingsmen have probably dealt with hundreds of security breaches over the duration of the organisation, and there’s probably a million and one procedures in place to make sure everyone’s okay.

And still, some part of him feels like it’s broken off, like something is wrong. Like something is going wrong.

He tries not to think too hard about it. Harry’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. Roxy’s probably waiting for him, and Daisy’s counting on him. It’ll all be okay.

* * *

Eggsy regains consciousness slowly, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear the fuzz lingering around the edge of his vision. It doesn’t work much, but it clears enough of his eyesight to be able to see what’s going on.

Which is a whole lot of nothing, actually. There’s a wall, and another wall, and then, if he twists his head enough, a wall with a big metal door, and then another wall with a window barred shut in it. The walls are painted in a puke coloured off white sort of shade, and the floor is slate grey linoleum, decorated by a stretch of chain. The same sort of chain that seems to attach him to whatever chair he’s sitting on. Great.

Unpleasant, unfamiliar, and cold as balls. It’s not even the fun kind of bondage.

Also silent, and alone. Both of which worry him far more than the actual kidnapping prospect.

“Daisy!”

No reply. And his throat hurts, all sort of scratchy. His breath is gross too, like he’d slept for too long with his mouth open. It makes him wonder how long he’s been here, and what happened.

“Daisy?!”

Still nothing. Eggsy feels his heart rate start to pick up. “Daisy! Roxy?!”

He waits a further few seconds before calling, “Harry?!” Partly because he’s embarrassed that he wants to call for Harry, and also because he’s not sure if that counts as, like, a breach of Harry’s secret agent privacy, or something.

Silence. Cold, dark silence. It grips his heart tight, squeezing so hard he can barely breathe.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, get a grip of yourself,” someone says. Distinctly American, but almost fake. Like it's trying to be American, and is so perfect it sounds wrong.

“Who are you?” Eggsy calls out. “Where’s Daisy? What do you want?”

“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you think,” the voice says. There’s a scuffling sort of sound, and then there’s a figure standing in front of him and Eggsy feels his stomach drop.

“You.”

“So you recognise me? Good. That’s a good start. All I need from you is some information, Eggsy. Do you think you can do that for me?”

His voice drips sarcasm, condescension. Disgustingly patronising, and it makes Eggsy squirm. Which is probably the intention.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Eggsy says, braver than he feels. But it’s true, he knows.

“I just want to know a few small things,” says the man, the face from the photo and the window and his goddamn nightmares. “Just a few… small… things.”

“Fuck off,” Eggsy spits.

Elias Sallow sighs, fixing Eggsy with a sour, disappointed glare. “I see Harry taught you well, then. Feisty and determined. I can see why he likes you. I want you to tell me what Kingsmen are planning.”

“I know jackshit about what they’re doing,” Eggsy says. “Do you really think they’d tell me anything, some fucking civilian who wasn’t even on site until yesterday?”

“I think you’re lying to me,” Sallow says. “And I think Harry Hart is a weak, weak man. I think he’s told you things. I think your father told you things. And I want to know what they are.”

“You’re thick as fuck if you think they’ve told me anything.”

Sallow rolls his eyes, tapping out some sort of rhythm on the wall. “I think you need some incentive. If you don’t want to tell me, then I’ll make you.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill me,” Eggsy says.

“And I won’t. But that girl of yours?”

Eggsy inhales sharply. “Don’t you touch her. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“She’s free game, Eggsy,” Sallow hisses, curling his lips around the words like he’s conducting a spell. “Free. Game.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Then you’d better tell me what I want to know, then, hm?”

Eggsy starts tugging at his cuffs. “And I already told you. I don’t know anything. You’re stupid to go after Kingsmen if you think I know something.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t fucking know anything!”

“Stop lying to me. Tell me what you know, or your Daisy is dead,” Sallow snarls. “Tell me everything, or you might as well kill her yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” Eggsy snaps. He wrenches at the chains once more, to no avail. “You see. You’ve just signed your death warrant, I promise you. I won’t tell you nothing, but you’re in for it.”

“What, you think Harry’s going to come for you?” Sallow scoffs. He takes a step towards Eggsy, leaning down to hiss in his ear. “Harry won’t come for you. You’re stuck here. Unless you tell. Me. Everything.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Sallow quirks an eyebrow. Eggsy feels deeply offended, even though it’s just an eyebrow. He’s not a liar, and he’s not a tattle-teller. But for Daisy…

“I don’t know anything,” he repeats. “And I won’t say shit if I don’t have Daisy in here with me. If you touch her, I swear.”

“Kingsmen’s standards have fallen, haven’t they? Letting in riff raff like you,” Sallow says. He switches his approach so fast Eggsy gets whiplash. “I bet they only let you in because you’re pretty.”

Eggsy doesn’t respond. His blood boils so close to the surface it burns.

“Nothing to say to that? Okay. So how many of the agents have you fucked yet? You know, they’re doing you a favour. Your dad never asked for them to provide you extra security, or housing. How are you going to repay them?”

“You think slut shaming will get me to tell you things?” Eggsy scoffs. 

Sallow’s words cut deep though. Harry _is_ far too good for him, and they’re not even a thing. He’s done so much for him, for them. Maybe he should be thinking about how to repay him, and Kingsmen. He’s already put them through a lot, probably caused a lot of inconvenience with the whole protection detail thing.

“No,” Sallow says. “I’m just saying it to tease you. You know, I’m not that mean, really.”

“You threatened to kill my daughter.”

Sallow laughs. “So? I’m not a psychopath, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Jesus,” Eggsy says. He’s tired of listening already, and Christ, it’s barely been ten minutes. He never learnt kidnapping etiquette. He doesn’t know how it works - he barely even got told how to throw an adequate punch.

Suddenly, everything feels hopeless. The burning trails of the sun sputter out and die, leaving charcoal and dust in its place. Eggsy sighs, determined not to listen to Sallow for as long as he can.

* * *

“Where the fuck is he?” Harry snaps at Merlin. He’s prepared for him to snap back, biting out a ‘I don’t know, now fuck off and let me work’, or a ‘shut up and bugger off, Harry,’ but he doesn’t.

“Harry, sit down,” is what Merlin replies with instead, and that alone is enough to shock Harry’s brain into reboot. He sits on the sofa in Merlin’s office.

“What even happened?” asks Roxy, from the other side of the room. She’s leaning against the desk, Tilde stood near her, like she’s standing guard. “One moment we were in the library, next we were going into lockdown.”

“Security breach,” Merlin says. “Probably Sallow, but who knows. I don’t know how he got past all our firewalls though, because he’d need to disable the locks electronically and that should be near impossible.”

“Well, damn well figure it out,” Harry says. Merlin sends him a sharp look.

“Where’s Daisy, anyway?” Roxy continues. “I mean, Eggsy’s missing, but surely they didn’t take Daisy too?”

“I don’t know yet,” Merlin says. He sounds frustrated and tired, and the friend in Harry wants to tell him to calm down and get some rest. The leader in him forces him not to.

“What would they need with her, though? Roxy says, growing increasingly frantic. Harry watches Tilde place a hand on her forearm. “She’s just a kid. She’s only ten. She can’t be in danger.”

“All we can do is hope,” Merlin says. He sits down in front of the monitor and brings up the security footage from the cameras. “Let’s go over it again. Harry, you heard the intruder alarm, and you told Eggsy to go inside.”

“Yes.”

Merlin nods, like he’s confirming it to himself, flicking through the footage, scene by scene. “Okay. So he wasn’t taken while he was still outside. He must have gotten through the door. Who was supposed to meet him and bring him to the safe room?”

“I- I don’t know,” Harry says, “I assumed just one of the staff members. I can’t remember the name of every fucking janitor in the building.”

“How you ever became the head of this organisation is beyond me,” Merlin mutters.

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

“So,” Tilde speaks up. “The person supposed to meet Eggsy was working for Sallow? Did you get a visual on them?”

“And did they get Daisy too?”

“I’ve got their back,” Merlin says. “They hit Eggsy with something, but then the cameras blink out and by the time they’re back on, there’s no sign of him.”

“Do you not keep fucking backups?” Roxy says, voice tense. “And what about Daisy? Do we assume they took her too? Shouldn’t we get someone out looking for her if not?”

“I thought our servers were secure enough to not warrant backups,” Merlin says.

“Well, obviously not.”

“Then we know better for next time,” he says.

“Not at the cost of my best friend’s life, you don’t,” Roxy snarls. “You better fucking find him, and Daisy, or on your own heads be it.”

She storms out, followed quickly by Tilde. Harry thinks he can see a trail of steam following her out.

“Does she scare you, as well?” he asks Merlin.

“Just a bit.”

“Mm. She’s right, though. We should be trying to find Daisy too. If we can’t confirm that she’s with Sallow, we should send out a search party or something,” Harry says.

Merlin nods. “I can’t confirm that she’s with Eggsy. Eggsy was the only one we saw get hit, and Daisy’s smart. Maybe she got away.”

“So we should start by checking around the building. She couldn’t have gone too far, could she?”

“Wouldn’t she show up on the camera footage if she’d gotten in or out, or in one of the rooms?” Merlin says.

“We don’t keep cameras in the bathrooms,” Harry says. “There’s a bathroom right beside the door Eggsy came in through. Maybe she’s there.”

“Maybe,” Merlin says. “I’ll get Tilde to check there now.”

“Good.”

Merlin types something on the computer, presumably a command to Tilde’s glasses. Then he rubs a hand on his chin, just gazing at the screen. “When Tilde returned from her recon mission, who else was in HQ?”

“What do you mean?”

“Which agents were here,” Merlin says. “When Tilde came home from her last mission. We thought we had a mole then, what if whoever got Eggsy and the supposed mole are the same person? Or, at least, working for the same people.”

“Send an alert,” Harry orders. “Pull all agents from any missions that don’t pose an immediate threat the continued existence of the world-”

“All of our missions contribute to the continued existence of the world.”

“We don’t have time for snark,” Harry tells him, “so pull all agents home. No one comes in or out of HQ until we have this figured out. Anything to do with Eggsy doesn’t leave this office, and we only share it with those whom we know we can trust.”

“Who can we trust?” Merlin asks.

Harry swipes a piece of paper from the printer in the corner of the room, scribbling down a list of names.

_Roxy, me, you, Tilde, Daisy (?)_

“No one else?” Merlin frowns. “Harry…”

“Until we can confirm it,” Harry says. “And, Merlin? Make sure we aren’t bugged.”

“Why would we be bugged?”

Harry looks at him. “Because we have a mole in the building and we’re currently investigating a sociopath?”

Merlin makes a face like ‘okay, you have a point.’ “I’ll go over all the security feeds for the past few weeks, see if I can spot anything out of place. And I’ll comb through the agents’ communication histories, see if there’s anything there. Add Percival to the list.”

“Why? How do you know he’s alright?”

“He’s already worked with Eggsy. I don’t think he’d do anything to jeopardize him now,” Merlin says. “Call it a gut instinct.”

“I can’t go off of gut instincts in the face of Eggsy’s safety,” Harry says. But he adds _Percival (?)_ to the list regardless, because he wouldn’t have gotten this far if he hadn’t trusted Merlin. “We’ll need to check out the recruits, too. And probably those who have been disqualified; for all we know, this is being orchestrated by a jilted contestant.”

“They wouldn’t have access to anything though, if they’d been disqualified,” Merlin says. “How would they be able to get this much information?”

“Why do you think I asked you to check for system bugs? They could have kept in contact with one of the recruits still here,” Harry says. Really, it should be obvious.

Merlin counters in the exact same sort of tone. “Why do you think I said I’d comb through their contact history?”

Harry nods, running through a million and one possibilities in his head. “I think Roxy and Tilde should stay with me until Eggsy returns.”

“Why?”

“Everyone thinks they’ll be staying on site,” Harry says. “They wouldn’t expect them to stay with me another night, would they?”

Merlin’s shaking his head before he even finishes. “No. Your house is the first place someone would look. Roxy’s apartment is out of the question, and so is Eggsy’s house. It’s Tilde’s or mine. Or we set them up in one of the safe houses.”

“I’m not letting them out of my sight,” Harry says, sort of like a warning. “Where they go, I’ll go.”

“Well, obviously. I wouldn’t let just Tilde stay, I’d expect a second agent just in case. And we should book Roxy in for a self defence class immediately,” Merlin says. “There’s no such thing as too prepared.”

“We’ll go to Tilde’s,” Harry decides. “She and I can teach Roxy there. You’ll stay here?”

Merlin nods. “Yep. Oh, look. Roxy and Tilde did find Daisy.”

Harry feels the iron cage around his heart loosen very slightly. He feels a bit better to have a plan now, or at least, the beginnings of one. Now to find a way to get rid of the all-consuming guilt, and he’ll be well on his way to getting Eggsy back.

“Harry?” Merlin says, after several minutes of silence, tracking Roxy and Tilde on the security camera feed. His voice is a lot quieter, painful and raw.

“Yes?”

“We’ll find him,” Merlin says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the fact too. “We’ll find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies again for how fucking long this took me to write/post. my brain hasnt been kind to me the past few weeks.
> 
> honestly not to sure how i feel about this chapter. it feels sort of stilted in some ways. id love to hear what u think, though, so please leave a comment.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! hope u enjoyed. feel free to leave a comment if u like. 
> 
> also, if u could let me know how long youd like chapters. this is nearly 8k, but i can also do shorter/longer ones. idk. let me know if u like this length or would prefer shorter or longer! thank u!
> 
> have a good day xoxo


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